The Further Story of Sebastian: First Part, The Punishment of Living
by belavrana
Summary: This story contains the Inquisitor Sebastian and an original blatant Mary Sue character. You know the question, "Who are you?" This story is about that, and a lot of other things, too. Cerebral and dense, not light reading - but if you stick with it you'll be rewarded with sex, drugs, violence, blasphemy... Main gist, Sebastian stays alive, and actually begins to like it...
1. disclaimers and info

Front Matter to :

The Further Adventures of Sebastian:

Part the First,

or: The Punishment of Living

A Babylon 5 fanfiction based **immediately** after "Comes the Inquisitor".

by BelaVrana

* * *

Things to keep in mind or know: Why I did this, plus standard disclaimer-y stuff for fanfic.

* I had to write this because I had to write this. That's just all I can say. It's a compulsion! One that I tried to ignore for YEARS, but a compulsion nonetheless.

I don't care what you think of it, really. I'll admit that right now. This is, like, ART, OK?

But maybe you'll actually like it.

* I don't own any characters except my blatant Mary Sue, Kaitlyn Shrimpling. Not my actual name. But close.

*Either JMS or actual history own the rest. I am not making money from this. All benefits I derive will be of a spiritual and intangible nature.

*Even if someone sued me, you can't squeeze blood from a turnip, anyway. I'm an impoverished artist, living with my mother.

****Yes, as I said, the Mary Sue aspect is deliberately 100% blatant. The name of that terribly guilty party, myself, has been changed slightly, simply to reassure the reader that this story is in fact, fiction. Well, yeah, no kidding, I didn't really get taken by Vorlons, but, hey.****

**********Some similarities to real people or real situations are probably part and parcel of the task I set myself up for, so I can't exactly give the usual line about coincidences. You've got a character who is based on the person JMS suspects was Jack the Ripper. However, similarities to stuff not related to the Ripper murders, or to the show Babylon 5, would definitely probably be something very much resembling a coincidence. **********

* * *

Some thanks

**I'd like to thank J. Michael Straczynski for writing/making Babylon 5, of course, and more specifically for the episode "Comes the Inquisitor".

**I'd like to thank actor Wayne Alexander for playing Sebastian in the episode. And for existing. And playing other roles in B5, too. And for being at conventions I attended what seems simultaneously a lifetime ago and also just yesterday. I might as well thank the rest of the cast, too, but Wayne still gets the individual shout-out. I have a feeling he would need it, and without him, this episode could never have been as powerful as it was.

**I'd like to thank Harlan Ellison for whatever conceptual/advising work he did with that episode, plus for writing the Ripper-in-a-future-world themed story, "The Prowler in the City at the Edge of the World", which doubtless had some effect on JMS back in the day. NOTE: If you look for this story, don't go thinking it won't be too gory because it's "old". Trust me- it's pretty messed-up stuff.

**I'd like to thank the Reverend Samuel Augustus Barnett for seeming odd and obsessive enough that both Harlan Ellison and JMS suspect him of having been the Ripper, though he is not a favored suspect of most Ripperologists. [Note: I am not fully committed to him as the Ripper for real life, but for purposes of the story I have to be. Then again, there truly are some damn good arguments in favor of him.] No matter what, he is an interesting historical figure. One of the major aspects of his personality seems to have been self-contradiction. Look him up.

**I'd like to thank the rat that allegedly interfered with the Reverend's breakfast and thereby allegedly triggered a nervous breakdown in the man. (But if you read the biography his wife wrote, most everything gave him nervous breakdowns. )

* * *

_* * * * The Babylon 5 episode "Comes the Inquisitor" storyline in itself MUST occur in an alternate Universe from the one we live in, since JMS's Ripper suspect did not disappear, but lived out his full life here on Earth. * * * *_

* * *

**The question of "Who are you?" is more important than who is asking the question. (Sometimes you get asked the question by a caterpillar smoking a hookah while sitting on a mushroom, after all.) But it can never fully be answered in words.**

* * *

I started tentative work on this story in late 1999, after attending Babylon 5 convention, Agamemcom III- my first sci-fi con ever- and really got into writing it late in 2000. Some of real life interfered with my ability to think as clearly as I could in the first years I tried to work on this. Soon, real life was a problem for me.

Suffice it to say, I was compelled gradually to come back to this.

* * *

**Notes**

First note: Just wanna reiterate: This is fanfiction, and as such is **fiction**. Even though this story has little to do with the actual Ripper cases, the crimes lurk in the background, and aspects make occasional appearances. No slander is meant toward the historical Reverend but it's too damn hard to write the whole thing without referring to him by name, or to his wife Henrietta, or to St. Jude's, or Toynbee Hall.

**I used 1999 in the story rather than 2000 solely because it was 111 years after 1888.**

* * *

Second note: A clearer explanation of what started this.

The convention of "Mary Sue" fanfiction, especially when based on TV or movies, is essentially that the female author has the hots for an actor who plays a character in the show/movie. That's why, for the most part, it has a terrible reputation. It isn't just that the genre is mainly written by females, but that bit of definite **weirdness**, y'know? The first Babylon 5 fics I tried to write involved _everyone's_ dream guy, Marcus Cole, played by Jason Carter, and/or Neroon, played by John Vickery. I just couldn't bring myself to submit the stories anywhere, because the more I thought about it, the implication of Mary Sue was that I was actually writing fantasies about the actors themselves.

Deny it all you want, Mary Sue authors, but I believe this IS implied by the fact that Mary Sue is YOU, and YOU are a real person. This makes Mary Sue fiction a RealPerson! Fic about YOU.

If YOU are paired up with anyone in the fic- and you know you always are- that character verges close to the edge of RealPerson! too, in the person of the actor who plays the character.

And so, the pertinent question of this style of fiction becomes WHO are YOU fantasizing about?

I just told you who I'd been fantasizing about circa 1997... but a couple years later, next time I tried to write, because I still gravitated to the hated Mary Sue, I started wondering:

**What B5 character would **_**most **_**set on its head the usual Mary Sue type of story? **

Which characters would someone be _least _likely to want to end up alone in a room with? Who would you actually _fear _finding yourself alone with? **What if you walked onto Babylon 5, and instead of your Dream Guy Marcus, you met a nightmare? **Sebastian seemed a good candidate for a nightmare. Bester was another possibility. And there are others.

**Now, the flip side of THAT flip side is- what IF the character you THOUGHT would be your nightmare turned out to BE your DREAM instead?**

And in late 1999, one night I went to sleep and actually had a dream like this.

Yes, it was about Sebastian. And, yes, it was interesting.

This story is much, **much** different than the dream, but that dream is the genesis. I don't think you'd want to read the actual dream... I don't think you **could** read it... and formatting wouldn't be the only problem.

OK, the genesis is that dream, _**and **_the quote from JMS in the Comes the Inquisitor episode guide (I'm thinking from "Lurker's Guide" been a while since I saw it.) where he said, "You don't break someone over tea" and I thought, "Why not? Why couldn't you?"

To follow the general idea of a TV show based Mary Sue story, of course, Sebastian HAS to resemble the actor, though, not the historical Reverend. And, our Mary Sue is not in the least devastated by this fact- but she is a bit disturbed by it. At first, anyway. Then she starts realizing they look more alike than she thought at first...

Now, here is your "philosophical" question: Is the implication of THIS story that I am writing a fantasy about myself and a historical figure? Or the same implication as any other Mary Sue? Or a combination of both? Or, something else entirely?

Which I know will not be quite answerable at this point in reading.

And, yes, the road from nightmare to pleasant dream has a lot of bumps on it.

* * *

***I'm confident the first few sections will easily stay clear of the mature rating, but... when it gets going, there will be references to the Ripper murders, drug use, alcohol abuse, a little non-murderous violence, some erotic activity, and lots of bad words, too. Oh, and blasphemy. Can't forget _blasphemy_! Y'know, let's have a few nice fresh killings, too. What the heck!

***Note: It's gonna take a while for anything really violent or smutty to happen, but I don't want kids reading this. So it's all M rated. OK? Mmmkay? If you're 12 and you're reading this story, PLEASE just stop before you start. Seriously.

* * *

NOW FOR SOMETHING IMPORTANT:

**OK- big important note here** ** This story shifts between first-person viewpoints.**

**You'll *know* it shifts because I put the character's name as a heading, thus:

* * *

***Sebastian***

I went to the Zocalo to buy donuts for Kaitlyn. I wonder what she likes in her tea. I hope she doesn't want coffee. I have to drink tea, because I'm British.

Of course, this isn't part of the story, but an example of how it is formatted.

* * *

***Kaitlyn***

I hope Sebastian goes to Dunkin' and brings me chocolate cream filled donuts. Those are tasty. I'd really love an almond mocha flavor Iced Coffee, but I bet he's never heard of that.

* * *

Let's see... anything else?

Well, how about setting your mood with the last words Sebastian spoke in the episode?

"Good luck to you in your holy cause, Captain Sheridan. May your choices have better results than mine. Remembered not as a messenger, remembered not as a reformer...not as a prophet, not as a hero...not even as Sebastian.

Remembered only...as Jack."

* * *

OK, next, the story...


	2. Now we're getting somewhere- but where?

And so, it begins- the story itself

* * *

***Sebastian***

I walk down the hallway, back toward the Vorlon transport that brought me here, and now waits to take me back again to the Vorlon Homeworld. I leave with the knowledge of how much Captain Sheridan must hate me. I don't know why that should bother me! You interrogate and torture people, they do tend to dislike you afterward. Oddly, I also sensed a grudging respect from him, I believe. That part, I cannot fathom that I deserve. It's probably only because he realizes I finally know why I hate _myself _so much. I have probably become so deluded I mistake pity for respect. That must be it.

Well, at least I will never see him again. Or Ambassador Delenn. She was the main subject of my interrogation, of course, yet I don't think she bears the ill will toward me that Sheridan does. Minbari are good that way, understanding sometimes unpleasant things just need to be done.

No matter, hopefully I will never again see anyone else in this physical life. I do not enjoy my life- that much is certain. I do not want it to continue. I have long since given up hope there is anything for me to look forward to. At one point, I thought perhaps I'd eventually be rewarded for work well-performed. Now, I do not believe this will ever happen.

_Death is the only reward I want now. I don't even care if I go to Heaven, to Hell, or just cease to exist. I want to die._

On entering my transport, a voice comes across to me. It is one of the Vorlons charged with my supervision.

It has the same monotone as usual, "Sebastian, we are aware you wish to die now."

I'm not at all surprised they know that. I've expressed the wish before. They would be able to tell, anyway.

Solemnly, I say, "Yes. I have accomplished my task. I have found you the true Chosen One."

More monotone in reply, "Yes you have found the Chosen One. You may retire from being an Inquisitor. Though your death will not yet come."

Trying to contain my disappointment, I ask only "Why not?"

"Your death will happen naturally."

"You mean that I have to live out the rest of my natural lifespan?"

"Yes."

I verge on indignant, "What about paying for my crimes?"

Vorlons never lose control, in the slightest. "You have paid- with your service. Your death is not necessary."

I, meanwhile, feel like a child deprived of candy, "Well, my death may not be necessary, but I WANT it! So, what if I kill MYSELF then?"

"The God you believed in would not approve such an action."

It is maddening sometimes how consistent their tone is, no matter what words they convey. Even words that seem improbable to hear from them.

Well, that irritates me- "You lot are the ones who showed me God is far different from what I had believed! I feel the God you have helped me briefly glimpse will understand!"

Then the Vorlon says, "Would any gods want you to leave a young woman from your own time alone in a vast Universe?"

Now they have me interested. I worry this is a sweetly baited trap, yet I am hungry enough to bite anyway, "What young woman? And truly from MY time? Did I know her?"

"You never met on Earth. You do not know her, physically. You only vaguely know of her- in that your energy has sensed hers from time to time since you have both been on our world."

My feeling is disbelief.

I could not hope for anything good to happen now, could I? "You- you don't mean? Oh my. I thought those were but dreams! Wish-fulfilling fantasies! And you tell me, she is not only real, but you have known of my... attempts at contact with her?"

"We do not miss much."

An understatement. "I- I suppose not. So, where is she?"

"She is here on Babylon 5."

"I thought I was supposed to leave."

"You must meet her on this station."

I know better than to ask why. "I think some of the folks here will not be happy to see me still here."

"That is your- problem. You will manage it. She needs you."

"If she needs ME, she must truly have some problems."

"Yes. Also solutions."

"That sounds- interesting. Solutions? For?"

"Problems."

"Right. Of course. I don't suppose I'd expect solutions to solutions, would I? Very well then. I will go back out there and meet this girl. So, where do I go? What do I do?"

"In exactly two minutes and thirty-five seconds a distraction will allow you to pass back through customs undisturbed. Move as quickly as possible to Red 3, Unit 135. Once there you will receive further instructions."

Wondering, I ask, "What did she DO, to cause you to take her?"

"It is nothing she did."

"Then why-?"

"You will learn. Two minutes and twenty seconds. Make ready and go."

Oh dear.

Do I even know how to get where I am going?

I do think it's near the Zocalo. That's in Red 5. And not so far from here, either.

I wonder if this young lady has any idea who her fate is being entrusted to.

A God forsaken Holy fool.

I think I should pray for her. And for myself.

"Two minutes."

"Are you trying to make me nervous?"

"Of course not. Why should counting the time do this?"

"Oh, just, never mind."

"One and one half minute."

Oh, sigh...

* * *

***Kaitlyn***

Something isn't right here.

Is this my room?

Am I really awake?

I know I woke up.

I know damn well I did.

I hope this isn't one of those dreams- the one where you wake up, get up, get ready and... and...

And it's probably not, because I don't find myself thinking like this in those dreams, do I?

No. I don't. I just get up and get ready, even if the dream is in a completely foreign place, as I seem to be now. In those dreams, I just go about my morning routine; eat, dress, the whole bit; until the alarm rings and I get up for real. I don't doubt. I don't ask questions. I don't sit there thinking, "Hey! This isn't my room!"

And, wow. This is **so** not my room. Even in the ambient glow from the electronic devices on the walls, I can tell this looks more like a hotel room than like the bedroom I've slept in since I was in first grade! But on the walls, those electronics don't look like a VCR, or a microwave, or anything in my house. They confirm I'm not at home, but I've never seen so many little green lights in a hotel. That looks like some serious tech. And the room does not look especially large, either. From what I can tell, that is.

Oh no.

Am I in a hospital? That'd make sense. Maybe my parents couldn't wake me up in the morning, and I went to the hospital. But one problem here is- this is not a hospital bed. It's way too comfortable for that! Not as comfy as my own bed at home, but not a hospital bed. No way. And no side rails. Plus I'm not hooked up to anything. If I was sick enough to not remember coming here, surely I'd have an IV drip stuck in me somewhere. Probably monitoring equipment too. I'd hear beeps or something! And, oh yeah, I also don't feel particularly sick. I am sitting up and moving easily, normally. I am probably not in a hospital.

Oh no.

So, back to the hotel thought... worse than a hospital, because it makes no sense. And real life making no sense is scary. Even if I am at least relieved that the bedsheets feel clean. Clean sheets, yeah. That's a big plus, if I've been kidnapped. I mean, really, it is. And how could I wake up in some strange place, with no idea how I got here, if I haven't been kidnapped? If I've been kidnapped, that has to be a bad situation. It's got to be a bad person who wants something bad. Unless I've been abducted by aliens. Nice aliens. Yeah, right. It's got to be some sicko... oh hell, oh shit, oh fuck... But one who leaves me alone and unrestrained? Hmm... maybe... maybe it IS aliens... no, that's crazy...

I feel nervous, I must say. This place feels, smells, and sounds so strange. If I'm in danger, panic is the last thing I should do. Annnd...how could I **not** be in danger if I don't know where I am? Somehow I have been abducted. From my house. With my parents there. Asleep, but there. That's scary.

I need to assess things. I need to get up and see just where the hell I am. Why is there such a strangely prominent hum? Not loud, just, I don't know, just really really noticeable. I've never heard- or maybe felt is the better word- anything like it.

Seriously, I totally want to freak out, but know I just can't. I went to sleep at home, in my own bed. And that is not where I am now. This could still be a dream, even if it's not the wake up and get ready dream, but it doesn't feel like I'm dreaming. I can't afford to assume I'm dreaming if I'm not, that's for sure.

So, how did I get here- wherever here is- and how could it possibly not be a bad thing? Was I drugged? Are my parents OK? I know damn well no one was in the house when I went to sleep except me, my parents, and the cats. Are the cats OK?

I call out for my mom and dad. No answer. "Is anyone else in this room?" No answer.

I see a nightstand to my right- but it doesn't have a lamp on it. Oh come on! I guess a light within easy reach would be too simple? I carefully get out of the bed and stand up. I am still wearing the nightgown I went to sleep in. This is a good sign. I don't feel unusually sore, like I fought anyone. Also good. If I was abducted by someone whose main goal was to do awful things to me, it's likely I'd be in bad shape already. But I feel fine. I have my usual morning stiffness, but that's it. If anything, I might feel better than usual. Much more rested. Maybe it's just increased alertness from adrenaline, but I'm pretty sure there's nothing really wrong with me.

I look and feel for my slippers near the bed. Can't find them. Shit. I hate the idea of getting out of bed with bare feet in a strange place. But if that's the worst that happens...

I carefully make my way to the wall, and see and feel nothing like a normal light switch. And I'm hesitant to press anything I can't recognize. No lights, no slippers. I guess I'll have to wait for light to come through the window. Window... oh, another problem. I don't see a window. Or curtains which would indicate one. No window? In a hotel? Um... never stayed in a hotel without a window. What else DO I see? I see boxes... I think... and when I get over by them, they feel like wooden trunks, not cardboard boxes. Like antiques. Weird. major electronics- and antiques? The wall on the left has a lot of little faint lights on it- around a screen? A TV? To figure it all out, I need more light than these little LEDs provide.

"Isn't there a light?" I ask out loud, frustrated. "I need some lights. Lights!" and just then, as I emphasize that second "Lights", they come on, automatically.

Oh. Holy. Shit... I look around and abso-fraggin-lutely do **NOT **believe it.

**I think I'm on Babylon 5. **

**For real.**

Oh, OK now. Maybe I should go back to considering the possibility that I am dreaming!

Because, you know- this really looks like I'm somewhere on the fictional space station Babylon 5- and emphasis belongs on the _fictional_, you know?

I was asleep, after all. But how do I know if I am dreaming or not? Other than the fact that it should be impossible for me to be on a fictional space station, of course. There probably isn't a way to know for certain. How do I know, even when I am awake, that what I experience is real? But this is not the time for a metaphysical or philosophical discussion. I appear to be on the space station Babylon 5, and this is not a normal, everyday occurrence, to say the least. I mean, not for me.

Common sense tells me it must be a set for the show, but I honestly don't think it is. I've seen every episode multiple times, and I don't remember ever seeing this room before. Maybe it's for an upcoming movie? Maybe, but frankly, though the style is recognizable, it's not _exactly _the same. No. Not quite the same, and honestly it just looks real. It looks complete, solid. Nothing feels or looks like, say, painted styrofoam. I don't see anything like, maybe a green screen they'd project CGI on... would that be in here? I don't know. I just don't think this is a set. Much as I love B5- I know the production values on the show weren't enough for such perfection. Nothing here looks faked at all!

I'd say it's more like how I'd dream it. Except I don't remark when something looks odd in a dream. Dreams are just odd. There's no need to think about this fact while you are having one. When I wake up, I remember "wow this was so different" but during a dream even the most out of the ordinary things seem normal. Strange, bizarre, and inexplicable are "dream-normal". What I am experiencing might not even be strange enough to be a dream. Except for those antique trunks. Those are out of place on a space station. As are the ornate antique brush and mirror sitting on that spare and angular table- next to- yes! A piece of paper! A note!

"Kaitlyn, please do not worry. You are safe." Oh, so they assumed I'd worry, did they? Good guess. "You went to sleep in the year 1888, but it is now 2259."

OK, so I'm in the second season. Oh wait- Hold it- did I read that other year right?

"You went to sleep in the year 1888..." OK, it does say that. Um, mistake, I guess? 1999, 1888... whatever.

"You are on the space station Babylon 5-" So I'm right about that.

"a self-contained environment floating in space, with-" blah blah blah, really? They think they need to explain this to me? I'm sure we can skip this part.

Now, it's so weird to read, "Your parents and grandparents were informed at the time by Vorlons that you would have a special purpose in the future, and needed to come with us."

Yes, I'm relieved that they know what happened to me. Still, I'm sure this next line, "They were naturally very grieved to see you go, but they were made aware that it was for the greater good," is putting it mildly. Yeah, sure guys. I bet they were just thrilled at the disappearance of their only child, just because "it was for the greater good." Uh huh. Right. And pigs fly.

Well, I don't know. Maybe pigs DO fly now.

But I digress- the note ends with, "Get dressed and prepare for a visitor. Let him in and follow his instructions. Remember, this space station is five miles long. Do not leave the room unless he instructs you to do so. He will ask you questions, and you may also ask him questions. As you will likely be hungry, your visitor will bring you breakfast. The Vorlon Empire thanks you for your co-operation."

Um, OK. I am getting hungry. And I'm sure I would get lost if I wandered out of this room. So, I love the idea of someone bringing me food right now. But you know what I love even more? I love lots of vagueness. Ha ha. No, I do NOT love lots of vagueness! I like to know what's going on!

Oh well. It's Vorlons. Which almost explains everything. Except, for all the things it _doesn't_. But yeah, Vorlons and vague shit... they're like that.

So. A visitor? Who? It's a man I guess, since they said "He"- Do I dare hope for Marcus Cole? Now THAT would be nice! Yeah, but you know what 1888 is... damn right I know what 1888 is!

But still I'll hope for Marcus. But it's the wrong damn season, isn't it? Damn! Maybe the timeline isn't the same here; maybe I could still get Marcus.

I look at a chest of drawers, and find nothing inside it. A closet, yes. Or no. Only a hotel-style bathrobe in there. And an extra blanket. I was hoping maybe there'd be a Ranger uniform in there, y'know? So, where are my clothes? Those antique trunks, I suppose? I lift the lid off one, and yes, there are clothes in it. They are not anything I remember as mine, but they are very nice things I would like to wear. Things I'd like to wear _if _this were the late Victorian era, that is. Personally, I'd like to mix them with modern pieces-whatever that means now- but every single thing here is Victorian style. And these clothes don't just _look_ historical- they _are_ historical. These would've been old back in my time, too. But they aren't old. They look new, perfectly preserved, even though they are late Victorian...

...and the year 1888 on that note...

This does not seem one bit like a set-up for a date with Marcus Cole, does it? Not even in an alternate timeline. And a date with Marcus would be an odd thing to be my higher purpose or whatever. If I thought I could actually became a Ranger, maybe, but there's a reason I didn't join the military. I totally doubt I'm Ranger material, more for physical reasons than mental, but I have to admit for mental reasons too. No, I doubt it's Marcus- or even Lennier.

No, I am pretty sure I know exactly where this is going.

The logical conclusion, with this Victorian stuff, is that the Vorlons' inquisitor Mr. Sebastian will be the one visiting me. I think I'm less than thrilled. As good as that episode is, it's good because it's like, super intense, with interrogation and torture and all that kind of fun stuff. Stuff way safer to watch than to experience, I'd say. I grant the note gives me no indication I should be afraid of my visitor, but how can I not be? He's Jack the Ripper! Common sense says I should be on guard. He's _Jack the Ripper!_ And, hey- did I mention he's freaking JACK the freaking RIPPER? Yeah. I think I did.

Damn! This sucks, I think. What did I do to deserve this? Yes, I know after the last replay of the "Comes the Inquisitor" episode, I made another tape of it so I could watch it, rewind it, watch it again, rewind it, watch it again... and that might make me a freak, but I had deep, soul-searching reasons for that. I'm sure there's some sicko out there who simply watched it and said "Oh, yeah! Electrical torture!" and watches it over and over for THAT reason, not examining the question of "Who are you?" OK, I also like to listen to the actor's voice. And he has very expressive eyes. But does that mean I'd deserve to be tortured by Sebastian?

Except the note says nothing of that sort, does it? I look it over again, and it specifically says "You are safe." Safe.

The note says I'm _safe, _and tells me not to _worry_. So I'm totally chill now, obviously. If the Vorlons say so. Jack who? I can handle this. All I need to do now is STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. But, you know, that Vorlon sure had rather Victorian looking handwriting. I bet Sebastian even wrote the note! Oh crap. Just STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. And since he killed _prostitutes_, one, don't act like a prostitute- I think I can manage that OK; and two, dress modestly. Easy enough, with what I see here. These are not hooker clothes. Not even 19th Century hooker clothes. This stuff's all high-necks, floor sweeping hemlines. Ladylike.

First things first-get dressed! I slip out of my nightgown. For the first test of whether or not this is reality, I look in the mirror. My body looks absolutely the same as in reality, not perfect like I often do in my dreams. My thighs could be a little smaller, my stomach a little flatter, Yup. A bit of cellulite...OK, this isn't helpful, Kaitlyn...Since this appears to be my real life body, I should quit critiquing it and get dressed. I do look good. Just not perfect. Oh well, right?

Of course, it's not like I can just slip into these clothes. I have corsetry to contend with. Which I will be glad for, with the weight of a floor-length wool skirt, plus petticoats. I can use some back support. I've got a few corsets to choose from, so I pick a front-lacing model. That is good to have.

Oh, my hair... I can't just leave all three and a half feet of it hanging like this! I never do that, anyway, or else I get things caught in it! But- the items I have here to style it with- I don't even know how to use! I only have one option I can see. Ribbons. I can braid my hair and tie the ends with ribbons. Like I'm a little girl. Or a fairy tale princess. Either way, it will convey innocence. I think that'll help. I hastily section it off, on each side- I can't do a single braid down the back well at all. Not a real one. I need my scrunchies for that. Wow. I sure don't have scrunchies.

Damn. I don't have the patience! Not after so many years of scrunchies! Over, under, one two three... here we go... keep going... Yes, look at me. Only two more feet to go on this side, ha. Shit. OK, now, more, just a little, and, other side... Ugh. Other side, same deal... just keep on... oh hell... oh, well. OK, finally!

Hmmm... I'm pretty damn cute. Oh yeah.

Suddenly I realize I really need to use the restroom. It's easy to identify a toilet in that little room there. Luckily the shape of such important things hasn't changed much. I find an antique train case on the sink counter. Oh, look. Cream deodorant in a tin! How quaint. And a "powdered dentifrice" rather than toothpaste. No real makeup, of course, except a bit of powder. But I do have other business... yeah...

Luckily toilets haven't changed much in form, though I've no clue how it works without water. I just flushed this thing, and I'm puzzled. The sink is an ultrasonic vibe sink, which doesn't use water either. Or, I assume that's what it is. No water came out! I hope my hands are clean. Also, I have no idea how to brush my teeth without water to rinse. All the more so, with tooth powder, not paste! I hope my breath won't matter much. Yeah, girl. Worry about your breath. Do you really think you'll be _kissing _him? As if I even _want_ to!

I get myself looking respectable as quickly as possible- high-necked blouse and all. Goodness- is this a smart-looking suit, or what? Nice! It's grey, so I should coordinate well with Sebastian when he gets here, too. I'm sure he'll be in black.

Now I am free to go about the much less urgent business of waiting, which is just as exciting in the 23rd century as it was in the 20th. Or the 19th, I suppose. I wonder if there is a TV or radio. I see no unit recognizable as either. It must all be integrated with the computer system. The wall panels look too complicated to mess with for a 20th century person- even for a semi-geek like me. I figure I may as well try speaking words, since "lights" accidentally worked earlier.

"Television."

Nothing.

"Radio."

Nothing. And I didn't expect that one would work anyway.

Oh, I know- "Computer!"

Still nothing! Oh, come on! That ALWAYS works in the future! It works on the SHOW!

"Computer! Computer! Computer!"

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

"Computer ON. TURN computer on. HEY, computer! Computer run. Computer go. DAMMIT COMPUTER!"

Oh well. I have a couple more of "my" trunks to look in, so- I do- and- Oh, hey! Books! That'll work. A book and the light to read it by is all I need to keep me busy, at least for a while.

I sit down on a small sofa by what appears to be the main videoscreen, with Henry James' "Daisy Miller", in a brand-spanking new looking First Edition!

* * *

***Sebastian***

So, I have another assignment.

My instructions say it is not technically an interrogation. I will use no torture or violence. Avoid intimidation. More like an interview, perhaps. This is very odd. It seems almost pointless to have me just talk to someone. At least now, after all I've been through and done.

Me. Of all people. Yes I'd once been a spiritual counselor, as all clergymen are, but it's been quite some time!

Maybe she does need help. Maybe she does need advice. But from me?

From me?

The thought of simple conversation brings me some relief, even so. I am tired of being a terrible person- there was a time when I wasn't a miserable failure. I want to once more be the good man I'd always tried to be, before I had my little nervous breakdown.

Here is what I know:

I was told the subject of my "assignment" is a young female, reportedly of _generally_ good moral character. She's made the type of mistakes everyone does, of course. She could, and reportedly sometimes did, get into what I would have considered morally ambiguous situations by trying to please the wrong person- often a man. But all in all, she's what would be termed a "good girl". She is also a talented artist, but she gives up on herself too easily. The rest is up to me to learn. It is my job to find out everything I can about her, through non-coercive means. Why I am to find out, I don't know. It isn't likely tobe the reason I myself want to find out- I am terribly lonely, and for that reason alone would want to meet this girl, get to know her, and see where it goes.

I know what I have been told to do right now- go buy her some breakfast at the Zocalo, as she will get hungry fairly soon after awakening. No doubt she will. She's apparently been with the Vorlons as long as I have- except she's been asleep the entire time, until now. That is one _very _long night.  
I must take the food next door to where I am staying, to room 137, where the young lady awaits my arrival. Oh, yes- she likes dough-nuts and pastries. That's another thing they told me. A good thing. They are easier to take "on the go" than a plate of eggs and sausage or what-have-you.

I wrote a note for her, based on instructions I was given. Kosh, I was told is taking that, and a few other items over for her right now, making the final preparations while I run my Zocalo errand.

I don't know much beyond that. I think. It's always so confusing right after a session with the Vorlons, even after I've been with them so long. They so easily overwhelm the senses in any direct contact. Sometimes I wonder if I have gone even more mad than I had been while on my murder spree- just in a different way, perhaps.

Of course I wonder- why _AM_ I here? It obviously has something to do with her, but it does no good to speculate what that is, before we even meet. Well, before we meet in the physical sense.

Now, do I _want _to be here? In this case, specifically here in this _place_, not here in this _life_... Well, why not?

Talking to a pretty young woman, in a purely conversational manner- not an interrogation- most definitely appeals to me. I am a man. I appreciate the fairer sex in the way any normal man does. Don't even the most hardened criminals, anti-social perverts, and ne'er-do-wells have intimate relationships with women? Or, with men, if that is their inclination? And how do such relationships start, but with a conversation? And how lonely and sentimental am I, that I am heading into this already thinking about how relationships start? Pitiful. I know I've become pathetic. And Delenn let me know exactly how pathetic I truly am, during my interrogation of her. She's an amazingly tough little thing. I am just a sad fool.

Now, if this girl- Kaitlyn- is truly that presence I have felt from time to time while with the Vorlons- I certainly do want to get to know her. Beyond that, I still can't say. Friendship is good, too. It needn't be romance. Right. Of course I want it to be romance. And, the things that go with that. But what if that person isn't even real? What if the Vorlons just know what I'd naturally dream of and play on it? But why would they? I'm sure she's truly the same presence. She has to be.

The fact is- I am going to meet a young lady right now. She has been taken and preserved by the very same Vorlon Empire I've worked for. Even if it is clearly a set-up and manipulated destiny, it is still my destiny to enter her life now.

I don't know exactly what a normal life in this century is, but I know I don't deserve one. Will I have one anyway?  
Enough with the guilt and sorrow, though.  
Now I must simply press the communicator button and tell "Kaitlyn" how to open the door. I don't have a card or code for _her _door, of course. That would be rude. Even if I did, just barging in would give her an awful fright, I'm sure.

I have no idea what mental state she'll be in. A girl from my time waking up on a space station? I'd think she'd be terribly frightened, or at least very, very confused.


	3. First Questions

OK, let's get back to it.

* * *

***Kaitlyn***

I hear a sound: {ding ding ding dit.}

"Hello?" asks the intercom next to the door.

"Who is there?" I call out, in the direction of the door.

The voice says, "Press the first button under the little screen by the door here. Then you'll be talking with me via this machine. I heard you, but not at all clearly."

I press the button, and say, "Well, _so far _I only asked who is there. So, I repeat, **who is there**?"

"I have been told to meet a Miss Kaitlyn Shrimpling here. Am I speaking to her?" OK, then _don't _answer my question. I mean, I'm pretty sure it's Sebastian, because, hello! But, hey. Honestly.

"You _might _be." I do have to be a _little _coy back, don't I? And make sure it really is him? Yes, it sounds like him, but a lot of folks in outer space use British accents. Some of them aren't even British. Like Wayne Alexander playing Sebastian. Not British, just sounds it. But yeah, that's one thing you learn watching sci-fi on TV. Half of space has a British accent! It could be _Zaphod _the Ripper, not Jack. You have to make sure you let the _right _serial killer in.

"_Might _I, then? I understand your caution, Miss. But I need a clear answer. So, what would get you to **answer **me more _definitively_?"

Hmmm... the voice is more than just close, though- it sounds exactly like him. But still, I say, "I would appreciate having a way for **me **to know more certainly who_** I **_am speaking to."

"Understood. You are speaking to Sebastian. I am a human man from the same time as you. We were both taken in the year 1888. AND I _know _that you have a note in there, which _I personally wrote _on instruction of the Vorlons, telling you more about what is happening here. If you want visual confirmation that I am _alone _out here; as I certainly would- **if I were you**; I will tell you how to get it." He then tells me how to switch on the screen itself on the door's com unit. And that was a good point, about making sure it's not only him, but him _alone_! I wasn't even thinking... It's bad enough I'm letting ONE serial killer in here, right?

Ah. Yes. On the screen I see it is definitely Mr. Sebastian. He looks very much a gentleman in starkly, soberly, stylish attire- one could even say he looks Gothic, though obviously he's Victorian! I don't want to totally swoon over clothing, but it's SO elegant and dignified. A somber yet dapper black suit, not strictly formal, but dressy- with very clean lines. His coat has silk-satin trim, again, pure black. He wears a black flat-topped hat- not a "top hat" but a bit lower, less formal style- and black gloves, also. (He is NOT wearing anything trimmed with astrakhan. George Hutchinson, one of the prime witnesses from the Mary Kelly murder case, might not want to hear this...)

To reference Ripper lore, he'd apparently be the "broad-shouldered, clerkly man" a witness described speaking to one of the victims on the night she was killed. And since I know who JMS's favorite Ripper suspect is, I know precisely who this man has to be. **And what's weird about **_**that **_**is**, **it means he's **_**not **_**the man he **_**looks **_**like**. I mean, that definitely is weird, when I stop and think about it- looking like one person but being a different one entirely. He is not an actor in a costume on a Babylon 5 episode. Instead he is a generally kindly, refined, art-loving, and very **obsessive-compulsive **clergyman- the type I do imagine could've gotten himself riled into causing trouble if he wasn't getting the results he wanted. OK, he was also weird in ways other than the obssessions. But he was a decent guy. And he's on Babylon 5 for real. As am I.

He doesn't look like he's _here _to cause trouble, though. Instead of the walking stick/electrical torture device used in his interrogation of Delenn and Sheridan, he carries a tray which holds what appears to be a box of donuts and two fast food-type hot beverage cups. Of course, that doesn't guarantee he hasn't got a knife in his pocket. He totally could. But he's smiling. Oh, my. Or maybe it's a fiendish grin. No, not really that fiendish. Just a little smug. He's much less threatening than in "Comes the Inquisitor", I must say. At any rate, the man I am about to let in here does not look like a monster. Whatever "monsters" look like...

I have him repeat to me a few things from the note he wrote, for good measure, then I tell Sebastian I believe he is who he says, and he instructs me how to open the door, which I do.

He enters the room.

He sets the tray down on the table, then removes his hat and gloves. Watching him take the gloves off, I notice he has big hands. Or at least long fingers, which would be so good for strangling me with... well, uh... I'm just making observations related to the Ripper case. I am _totally _not even comparing how he is taller, slimmer through the middle, and significantly less bald than the dear Reverend was in real life. Or noting that there is, however, quite a strong resemblance through the _intense _eyes, the square chin and jaw...

Because, really, come on! Sure, this man is fit, but it's _sure_ not like he is perfect! He's just average. Well, no- he's MASS MEDIA average... for the _REAL _world outside Mass Media, any tall, very thin yet well-toned man that isn't half bald though past 40 is better than average. I'm thinking some women would say Sebastian here is **too** thin, but there's a wiry solidity about him.

_Those _looks are no reason to lose my cool, though! There are clear, uh, flaws, if you will. His hairline does show _some _receding, and there's a wrinkle or two there- and there- and oh, MY- he's now staring **back **at me! With those **intense eyes**!

So... quick- Look somewhere else, like up or down...uh...anywhere else. And get back to thinking about him as a MURDERER! Priorities! Priorities!

Plus, you're not looking at an actor! You're looking at a Vicar! In whatever reality I'm in- THIS is the real Reverend Barnett- not the one I've seen in old pictures. Yikes! It's not the level of ogling a Catholic Priest; I won't go to Hell nearly as fast, since Anglican preachers can marry, but still, eh, yeah. I'm appraising the physical attributes of a clergyman. Hell-bound, that's me.

Attempting to preserve sanity, I do look down, and notice his shiny black boots. The hard soles and heels click on the floor when he walks. Naturally I wonder- Could you surprise a victim in those? Only if you were walking on something really soft, like mud. And I get the feeling he wouldn't dirty them that way. Guess this isn't "prowling" attire. Even if he didn't need to surprise anyone, because he was trusted, he surely wouldn't want to get blood, or the other, much smellier, contents of viscera on that fancy suit! So, I'm sure he wore old clothes while murdering. He could be out at all hours "patrolling", and if anyone asked why he was sneaking around dressed shabbily, all he'd have to say is it's to blend in more easily so _the killer _won't recognize him and run. It's all pretty simple for the area he lived in.

"Breakfast is served. I hope you like it-" he says as he opens the box, and now I have to look at him again, as he continues, "They, um, the Vorlons- they told me you like these... donuts. Not what kind, though. I swear there were a hundred flavors. Chocolate? Can't go wrong there? Can I? I hope not. And I saw raspberry jelly, which sounded good. And I did not know how you'd want your tea- well, presumably you'd like it in a china cup, not these modern... things - but what I mean is, as you are a lady, I put cream and sugar in it. That's all I'm really trying to say. The tea is sweetened." He's _rambling_. How... odd.

I smile graciously, "That is the way I prefer my tea. And you truly couldn't go wrong with chocolate. I am pleased with everything. Thank you."

"Oh, you are more than welcome." He smiles, now, with an inaudible laugh.

We sit across from each other. It's becoming clear to me he is nervous looking at me, too. Awkwardly nervous.

He tastes a donut and says it's good. "Better than Vorlon-made food." he laughs, stiffly.

I respond, "I wouldn't know. I never ate their food. I just woke up."

He nods, and- proving that he is _indeed _as nervous as I am- emits an utterly incongruous giggle, before saying, "Yes, that's right. Well, trust me. Vorlon food can barely be called that. They- they don't really eat, you see." He starts to anxiously scratch his head, notices himself doing it, and stops, before resuming eating the donut.

Interesting. Now that he's here with me, looking at me, all the smugness, the remnants of nasty "Sebastian-ness" he seemed to have while still outside the door, have gone, at least temporarily.

I suddenly realize something- something that he didn't do before we started to eat- that I would have expected from a holy man- Prayers!

"Say, Sebastian- did you forget something?"

"Like what?"

"Before we started to eat. Why didn't we pray?"

He looks shocked, "Oh dear, I can't believe I forgot. Do forgive me- I have not had company for a meal in a very long time. I truly am a very religious man."

"Of course I forgive you."

"No, it's terribly, terribly embarrassing for me! I- I was... a Vicar... of... a church." he's utterly mortified.

"I still forgive you." I smile very sweetly.

He looks slightly relieved. "Thank you. Very well, now we will say our thanks."

He says some prayer or other. I don't even listen. I'm spiritual, certainly, but not religious. I was just very surprised when I realized he'd forgotten to be! I didn't expect I'd be so distracting to the poor man. Or he so distracting to me- I'm too busy watching his lips move to hear the words of the prayer, anyway. His eyes are closed, so presumably he doesn't see me watching him like this. He is very interesting. Very interesting. It's like two people in one, almost...

Then, once he says "Amen", we each eat, sitting at the table quietly for a few minutes, cautiously looking one another over.

Time passes, probably a couple minutes, but it seems forever.

"So, Kaitlyn, let's talk about- something. Something other than breakfast." Not the cleverest words, but at least he's speaking again.

"Um, sure, let's talk. About what?"

"Tell me about yourself."

"Tell you what about myself?"

"Anything."

"Anything?"

"Is there an echo? Ha. Just tell me something." His tone is becoming more playful now.

"Um, I'm an artist."

"That much I know. The Vorlons have told me a little bit. Oh, I, I like artists, by the way."

"So, you like artists, huh? That's good to hear, I suppose."

"I hope it's good! I associated with many artists in my life. What kind of artist are you?"

"I hate when people ask that."

"Why?" Aw, he looks a little sad.

"I do a lot of different things. Almost too many. Paint, draw, sculpt, make jewelry... and if you count other 'arts' as art, I sing, too."

Oh, suddenly he looks very _pleased_, "Oh! Could you sing for me now?"

Could I sing for him? Seriously? I'm sure I could, but... "Uh, right now?"

"Yes."

"I- I'd rather not. Not right now, on the spot. Maybe later?"

"Later is fine. I apologize if I am making you nervous. That is not my intent."

Intent. Just what is his intent? He may have a job here, but he also has a history of deciding rules don't apply to him. Not that I feel in any danger of being *killed*. But there are other dangers. I see the way he's looking at me. Men are so transparent about that. And I want to curse the parts of me that already, ridiculously, don't seem to mind. What is WRONG with me? Am I insane? I don't think _that _way so quickly about strange men! And _this _is the one I choose to have such thoughts of? Oh, do I ever need to set a boundary!

I sober up from the perverse fascination I find myself developing- put on the haughtiest proper lady air I can- and state plainly, "I see... maybe that's not your intent, but, don't you think it's just...really, really improper for you to call on me alone, where we are completely unsupervised?"

He looks just a little deflated, but not especially upset. His reply is very matter-of-fact, "It may be improper, but this is what my employers have asked me to do. I can apologize, but I will not leave, until I feel I've gathered enough information for the day."

I remain firm, "I would like to have a chaperone. I **demand **it!"

Maybe this time I overdid it, for now he laughs playfully again, and says, "Oh? Why? Which one of us do you not trust?"

I sniff, perturbed, "Hey! That isn't funny. The answer should be obvious!"

"Indeed. Well, I assure you I am not that sort of man. I am WHOLLY Holy. Ha ha. Your virtue is in no present danger from me."

I shake my head in annoyance, then say more earnestly, "I hope that is true, but... I also hope you will not take offense if I am still nervous."

He looks down, then back up. He does seem to realize and understand my concern, "That is understandable. But you cannot have a chaperone- not that I wouldn't allow it- believe me, at the moment it would also make me more comfortable- but only because my employers did not think to make one available. I assure you, however, that my only intention here, at present, is to do my job."

"Yes, do your job. Which is?"

"I conduct interrogations."

And this I obviously knew, but I want to hear his take on it: "Interrogation, Sebastian? Am I, um, accused of...something?"

"No. This isn't even truly an interrogation. But if it were, all it really means is that I ask you questions, and your main duty is to answer them, to the best of your ability, with complete honesty."

"Main duty? Uh...What would be my other duties?"

"Only to respect my authority."

"So...why...why would you have authority over me?"

"I am the inquisitor, and you are not. That is why." Simple. Direct. But he's back to a flirtatious smile.

Nice.

Wait. I shouldn't like that... but I do.

"Oh..." I think I am blushing. My face feels warm.

I ask, "I could stop an... interrogation, couldn't I?"

He nods, "If this were indeed such a thing. Yes."

"Would I then have failed?"

"You cannot fail if there is no test."

"So... this is not a test?"

"I think it's more of an experiment."

"Hmmm..."

His only reaction now is to raise an eyebrow.

Which could mean anything.

"Sebastian, I have to confess I'm very confused. I don't understand what has happened to me."

"In what way?"

"My being here... on Babylon 5, with you."

"What do you remember about coming here?"

"Nothing."

"What is the last thing you remember _before _being here?"

"Falling asleep. In my own bedroom."

"So, the last thing you remember is falling asleep? You don't remember the Vorlons?"

"No."

"Do you know what Vorlons are?"

"Yes. They are aliens. They are the ones who brought me here."

"You know that from the note I wrote for you, of course."

"I... know it from somewhere else too."

"You mean you remember being on the ship, or their world, just not seeing the Vorlons themselves?"

"I don't remember the ship. Or their world."

"Then- where do you know of them from?"

"I don't know. I'm just confused, I think."

"I understand. You have been asleep for a very long time."

I just don't know what to tell him. How do I tell him that I saw him interrogate Ambassador Delenn and Captain Sheridan on TV? He's from 1888! Would he even understand the concept of what a TV is? Then again, he's been with the Vorlons. He's surely seen all sorts of technology I couldn't even imagine. I think I'll be the real tech newbie here.

Regardless, as a respectable 19th century (or any century) lady, just being alone with a man I don't know is enough cause for being uneasy; and being in such an outlandish place as on a space station is plenty reason to be afraid! I have no need to explain myself or my fears. It should all seem natural to him. And this realization might help me relax further, I hope.

In my attempt at this backwards sort of "relaxation", I decide to just go for broke, and tell him , "Actually, I know _exactly _how I remember what a Vorlon is. This is all a science fiction show, on television."

He gives me an annoyed look, "Don't be ridiculous. Science fiction, and television shows, imply that something is not real. You and I are clearly real."

I want to sound convincing, but what comes out of my mouth, "But I know because I've watched TV! A lot. And I watch sci-fi. Babylon 5 is sci-fi." falls short, I think.

And, I don't only think that because he just rolls his eyes and says, "Right. Of course," then gives a perturbed chuckle.

Exasperated, I exclaim, "I am not from 1888! I am from 1999! That's 111 years later!"

Now he laughs, "Don't be silly! The late twentieth-century? You? Ha ha! With perfectly preserved late Victorian belongings, not one piece from even a year past 1888?"

I think about this, and say, "Well, they could have just been gathered ahead of time, you know. In preparation."

He shakes his head, "In preparation for what, exactly? Waiting 111 years to abduct a woman who seems as much from my time as possible, instead of just taking one from my time in the first place? Allow me to make just one _physical _observation about how truly ridiculous that notion is- your clothing fits you perfectly. Just who do those clothes belong to, if not you? That jacket and that skirt have to have been made or at least tailored for you. I've seen general stores in your country. My guess is, that outfit would not be sold in one."

Wow, the fact is, he's right. This is quite a perfect fit. Dressmaker or tailor work. And now I'm realizing when I got dressed, I didn't even think about whether or not the clothes would fit- I just put them on! Why did I take for granted they'd fit me? These must be my clothes, and I must know this. If these are not my clothes, they must have belonged to a near prefect replica of me. I know how poorly something seemingly one's size can still fit. These aren't just my size... they also perfectly suit my shape- very small frame with prominent curves, short torso, my height all in my long legs. I have long legs, indeed, to find a random Late Victorian skirt that actually sweeps the ground! Oh, while in two-inch heels, too. I know how hard this is from looking for antique clothing.

Or, I think I know this from looking at antique clothes. Maybe... maybe they were just used... anyone who wasn't made of money could buy used clothing at any time in history... because, if these are _my clothes_... I _myself _must also be Late Victorian.

Why am I doubting myself?

Seriously?

Look where you woke up.

Why wouldn't you doubt yourself?

I should probably stay skeptical about... everything. Every possibility. Doubt everything, trust no one.

* * *

***Sebastian***

So, what do I think of her so far?

She is definitely the presence I sensed. Which doesn't tell me much, really. People can be drawn to others for many reasons. Even for negative reasons.

But the Vorlons brought her here. I am sure they _intend _me to be drawn to her. They've **created **this link between us, most likely. I am quite familiar with their meddling ways.

I am not even sure of all they've done to my own brain. It'll take days to start understanding what _might_ have happened to hers.

I don't think I'll complain though. Aside from being beautiful, she's relatively innocent for a 27-year old who has been away to University. Especially in some barely civilised rural part of the United States. She's not _untouched_, but was definitely not promiscuous... which I know because I had the audacity to ask my employers about her sexual history! I thought it would be slightly humourous to ask, considering I killed prostitutes. I cannot help the dark humour.

What I can't believe is that _they remotely pulled it from her mind and showed me some of it!_ This just seems rather callous, but I suppose they understand how important it is to me to _know_ that type of thing. They didn't give me a lot of details, though, which I'm glad of. But her lack of inherent _wickedness _came through. She's a good girl at heart, the kind who needs a deeper connection to enjoy physical sexual activity. She does not like or want to sleep around. She wants to be a good, proper lady. She just needs a bit of guidance.

Now, what I observe from talking to her- She has no grandiose delusions of being God's chosen, as I did. She doesn't need a ruthless Inquisitor to break her. (Thankfully, that is not what I am here for! I may not know what I am here for, exactly, but I know many reasons that are NOT why I am here!) I realize I've only known her for a half hour... maybe an hour... at most, but her shy nature is clear to me. A nature she feels motivated to overcome in my presence. She is a fairly typical young woman from my own time. Oh, there are ways in which she is not at all average. She is prettier and more shapely than most. Apparently also smarter than the average, as she has been to University. A woman going to University was impressive in our day. She probably is aware of her beauty and intelligence, but overall seems to be a normal, innocent, _mostly _unassuming lady nonetheless. Why was she even taken? Of course, I think she was _indeed _chosen- for ME. That this is why I could sense her. She is, for lack of a better word, mine. If that is the case, why was she kept away from me until now? I certainly could have used some human companionship. Especially of the attractive female kind. Did they think I would hurt her? I did not harm such demure, innocent girls! If they thought back then, from some misguided notion, that I would have harmed her, why do they feel differently now? Due to what I learned from Delenn?

Perhaps. But then-

What if I'd never found a true Chosen One? What if I never felt humbled in that way? Would they have just left this Kaitlyn girl to sleep forever? That seems... pointless.

Oh, I must come back down from speculation. She IS here, she is NOT sleeping forever, and I am here WITH her. The reasons, for the moment, are not all that relevant. My goodness, she is certainly charming, though. Oh, those eyes! Those lips! And look at those innocent braids, and such a lovely auburn color her hair is, too. And, well, look at all the rest of her. Oh, look at her, indeed! So sweet and feminine. Even if my dear wife were still alive I could momentarily lose my common sense here! Of course, I wouldn't stray, (well, I'd try not to...) but- it's not even close to straying now, rest my dear Henrietta's soul. I've been alone for a LONG time! Oh, it's certainly been a while... since I felt like this...

Oddly enough, this young lady seems to recognize me. I wonder how. I cannot recall *physically* seeing her ever before. I definitely would have remembered that!

If she were from Britain, I'd just presume she knows of my social reform efforts. I'd been to the United States, but not in her area. And I doubt my visit was national news. And it was a while ago. Maybe she knows of me from the London Times or another British paper? But then, why didn't she ask, "Oh, are you Reverend so-and-so who wants to clean up the slums of London?"

No one ever proved I was the Ripper. Aside from my wife, only church authorities became aware of my activities... and they weren't telling! Can't have the public doubt religious authority! No matter WHAT it does! How much could this girl really have seen, heard, or read about suspects in the case? I wasn't even a true suspect, anyway! No, there is little conclusive she could have heard. She was taken not long at all after I was- not even a month after Mary Kelly's funeral.

She *couldn't* know I'm a killer. The Vorlons didn't tell her. They didn't say they did, anyway. I most definitely did not write it in the note! That would have been foolish. What does she think? How much does she know?

But why should *I* be afraid of *her*? What can she do to me, even if she does know? I am a man. And, well... look at her- she is most certainly not a man!

And looking at her, which I cannot stop doing- reminds me of something else...

She is a fine example of a proper young lady. Her family, unlike one girl I remember, would not have thrown her out, no matter what mistakes she made. You can tell she comes from a background of love. But...What if her family fell on hard times? It's so easy for that to happen.  
So many people are deluded about their position in a Capitalist society. You are NOTHING but the MONEY you have! Your body, your brains, your talents? Only valued as tools for making MONEY!  
She looks middle-class- not poor but by no means wealthy- the material of her clothing is good quality, but not extravagant, and the style is relatively plain, with just enough ornament to show pride in her femininity, but not to show off. What if someone had persuaded her to use her pretty, innocent face and curvaceous figure to earn extra money for her family? I've been around long enough to know some unfortunates were as pure as her before they began their careers on the streets. And when one so innocent does fall into that life, how much worse it is for her to live it than for one who had always behaved wickedly! Maybe, given the great shock it would be to her, she could behave even worse than those who started off depraved. Poor Miss Kelly... well, that's in the past.

It seems I am so easily shaken anymore, especially after interrogating the truly pure-hearted Ambassador Delenn... is the purpose of this "assignment" to torture me with guilt by shoving right in my face someone not only pure, but also apparently innocent? Why- why would they take HER just to torture ME? Am I THAT important? Obviously not! I am not Chosen. I cannot forget this. Not ever again. Whatever this girl is here for, she is at least as important as I am.

* * *

***Kaitlyn***

As I sit at the table with him, eating my donuts and drinking tea, I can't help but still think of the actor Wayne Alexander. How could I not? And I think, too bad it's really not the actor instead. I mean, meeting him at a couple conventions isn't truly knowing him, but at least he'd be someone I've actually seen and spoken to before.  
The fact is, it's 2259. _Everyone _I knew- or met, or even just passed by a single time while walking down the street- is dead, not just my family.

Now this is not an _exact_ physical replica of him, even at the time of that episode- but close enough it still makes me feel _**even stranger than I already do**_. I wouldn't even have to squint to imagine it's him... **that is**- **if the man were quite ill**. This is no tanned California-born guy, dude. No. Sebastian is _extremely _pale. It's clear they went for this look in the episode, but it falls short of reality. He clearly hasn't seen sunlight for a long time- but then, neither have I, and I look nearly the same as I did when I went to sleep in the past! Is it because he's been up and around without sun, and I've been so completely dormant?

People _live _on this station- _including many very WHITE people, in spite of the fact that the human race is all supposed to end up a sort of mid-brown through interbreeding by now_... and despite the fact there's no sun here, they don't look quite like THIS. Well, they do have artificial sunlight for the gardens, and people go there. The artificial sun is good enough for the plants, so it must work for humans, too.

I don't suppose the Vorlons had a Zen Garden for poor Sebastian to visit. His pallor isn't merely ashy, either- it's into deeper layers of skin. If it weren't for his really quite lovely and expressive eyes, and the general spark of vitality, he'd have a re-animated corpse look going on. A BIG TIME re-animated corpse look.

Maybe it's the way he just bit into a raspberry-jelly-filled donut, and got a bit of the red jelly at the corner of his mouth, but as he discreetly pats it away with his fingertip, (I've noticed we have no napkins) I am thinking this very pale man would make a great vampire. Especially in that great-looking black suit. He is "Dressed to kill" as they say. From that first second he walked in here, I was fascinated, even if wary. He's really something. I'm not sure what yet, but definitely something.

"Oops!" Jelly from the donut has dribbled down onto Sebastian's shirt. Um, more than dribbled. Goodness. It splorted a major red blob. Well, he may be truly something, but things are not going smoothly for him so far, are they? "And you didn't get napkins, did you?" I ask. "No. That is what I forgot. That wouldn't get it all off, anyway. Well, I can go change my shirt. I have the room next door to you. I'll be quick." I'm thinking this is probably not the first time he's had to change after getting something red on his shirt, but I keep quiet on this, and simply say, "No problem. I'll just read some more if I finish eating while you're gone. And don't worry, I remember how to work the door gadgets. Now be careful." I'm telling him to be careful. Him. Be careful.

He laughs, "It's just next door. I won't get lost. But you make sure you don't answer that door for anyone else."

He moves swiftly to the door, but watches as it closes after he exits the room. Probably to be certain no one else would sneak in or something? I don't know. Why would they?

Sebastian really has been more than courteous so far, all the more so considering _what he did in 1888, and what he has been used for by the Vorlons since then_. But I don't think it's a show- **he seems genuinely concerned for my feelings... which the Reverend would be. **I know enough about this man, or at least the real historical version. There'd be no reason to kill me unless he'd kill ONLY to kill.** He wouldn't. No way. **And no one really does... oh I know folks say it's done... but not really. _And _if the Vorlons would let him kill me, that would be really stupid and super-duper extra pointless.

* * *

***Sebastian***

Of all the luck. As soon as I've exited her door and it has closed, I see Captain Sheridan less than ten feet distant from me.

He approaches, looking as though he's seen a ghost. "Sebastian? Why are you _still_ here?"

I reply,"Because I didn't leave yet."

He shakes his head, "But you got on the ship-"

"And back off of it again. I know! How very fickle of me."

Now Sheridan looks at my shirt and his eyes go wider yet. "It's jelly, Captain. Just jelly. Don't you smell the raspberries? I was about to go in here and change my shirt." I say, pointing to my door. Sheridan asks, "Well, who's in that room you came out of?"

"Another person who is eating breakfast _with me_."

Sheridan tilts his head suspiciously, looking at me sideways, "You're not here just to eat breakfast, I am sure. What are you doing in there?"

I reply, "Nothing untoward. Of _that_ I can assure you."

He looks very impatient. "What I mean is-"

"It is not another interrogation. I can tell you that much, but I can't tell you exactly what it is."

"Why not? Vorlon orders?"

"I am still here at the auspices of the Vorlons, yes, of course. As is my new... acquaintance. But I cannot tell you the purpose of my assignment because I myself do not yet understand what it is. It doesn't involve you, anyway."

"If it has anything to do with Delenn- If you harm her again-" Oh, he makes a _fist _at me. Please.

"What? You'll kill me? You might think it wise, and even yesterday I'd have felt you'd also be doing me a favor. At the moment, however, it would simply leave my new companion all alone on this station, wondering what has happened to me. Look, you have nothing to worry about! I assure you this assignment has *nothing* to do with Ambassador Delenn!"

He begins to anger, "It better not! It DAMN well better NOT!"

Composure is not as easy to maintain now, but I try. "I understand that! And guess what- I have absolutely no interest in harming the Ambassador. Do *you* understand *that*? That interrogation was nothing personal. It couldn't have been, as I didn't know her previously. If anything, once I found out she is a perfectly decent individual, I felt quite terrible about it. You, however, I have no guilt over. You are pompous and irritating."

He smirks and snarls, "Sounds like the pot calling the kettle black."

"Really? As a gentleman, I respect your opinion, but I do not agree with it. As I said my purpose here now has nothing to do with you, or Ambassador Delenn."

"It still involves MY station."

"You own the place, do you? I had no idea you were so wealthy."

"Oh, shut up."

"Then I won't be able to tell you anything else."

"All I want to know is if anyone's going to get hurt."

"I certainly hope not. I tried to tell you before I am not a sadist. I don't even enjoy killing. It merely served a purpose- which I later learned _did _partially succeed, by the way. Why do you not believe me about my utter lack of interest in you, your lady friend, and YOUR space station?"

"I try to believe you, but it isn't easy. You are one hell of an inquisitor, Sebastian. Hard to believe you don't get off on it."

I feel a bit offended. "Are you implying I would be _aroused _by such a thing?" Of course, I know that's what he's SAYING, not just implying- but even if I _would_, it's not his business...

He rolls his eyes, "Never mind. Just change your damn shirt."

I open the door, and stand in the doorway now. "You need to keep watch for getting intoxicated by power, too."

"Yeah, yeah, I will. Just change your damn shirt and get out of my face now."

"I will 'get out of you face' as you say, in a moment, though I seem to recall you approached me, not the other way around. But let me say first, whether you believe me or not, I am sorry on a personal level to have been the one to cause you and Ambassador Delenn such physical and emotional pain, but in the grand scheme, I can never be sorry that you went through it. It was necessary for the good of billions of lives. And I commend you both for your strength. You are both far better than I ever will be. I respect you greatly."

Sheridan's only response is a somewhat surprised "Thank you."

I turn and close the door.

What an annoying man.


	4. Love and Cheesy Spoo

Perhaps some of you expected him to whip out that Vorlon version of a violet wand by now? Sorry to disappoint you…

But there is something even better...

Cheesy Spoo.

I'm so glad I don't believe in Hell, because I'd be SO there... Oh, I might believe in Satan... just not Hell...

Oh, yes. You're reading a story, aren't you? Well, don't let me keep you from it-

Here you go:

* * *

***Kaitlyn***

ding ding ding dit

"It's Sebastian."

Oh, good! He's back. Wait- is that good? Oh, of course it is.

I don't know what else to do but let him back in again, anyway. He was already in here a good half hour? Maybe more... and my throat is still intact, as well as all other body parts.

Goodness, he didn't even try to _**strangle **_me! He is seriously off his game, isn't he?

But... seriously...

He's carrying his coat, now, and remarks, "It is a bit cold in here, don't you think?"

I nod. "Oh, very much so." With a soft smile, he says, "Maybe you'd like this, then?" indicating the coat, adding, "In fact, I insist." He places his coat around my shoulders, gently, softly. Well, this is certainly not torture, is it? Rather the opposite! But I'm no fool. Preacher or not, I know why… plus he's no preacher anymore, anyway. And though he didn't say so, I suspect he's technically no longer an Inquisitor, either. I suspect that, of course, because he isn't interrogating me, plus he acts like he doesn't even know what to **do **with me. He's trying to pretend he has all the power here, but I know I have at least some of it.

What he clearly is, is a man who finds me attractive, and isn't afraid to make this known to me.

He lingers with his hands on my shoulders slightly longer than needed, as he tells me, "Don't worry one bit for me, I know how it can be made warmer in here. We have a fancy modern thing-automated climate control. No need for coal, or wood." He steps over to a desk, near the main wall unit, opening a drawer, "You need only push a button; and in here," he shows me an instruction manual, "we are told of the correct buttons." Then with a wistful smile, he adds, "If only life itself were so easy, right?"

I smile back, "Oh, you are right. I am embarrassed I didn't think to look for instructions!"

"You surely had other things on your mind than the temperature. Like, where you are, and how you got here, for example."

I nod quietly, thoughtfully.

He walks over to the panel right next to the videoscreen, pushes a few buttons, and assures me it'll be warmer in a few minutes.

He seats himself again, but now, next to me, not across. He turns the chair, and indicates for me to do the same, so we are once more facing each other, but are much closer to one another than we'd been with a table between us. I don't mind too much.

Well, I do and I don't. The tension I feel is not as fearful as it had been- but still very tense- and just fearful _enough_. Even more tense thanks to the fact that I find myself trying not to fall for him- something I hadn't even _thought _would be a problem!

Before he can start up again, I ask, "Don't you want to know WHO I AM?"

He gazes into my eyes, and asks back, "Who are you? Do you truly not realize we've been asking this of each other the entire time? And that we will continue to ask it every moment from now on? Not in those words, though- after all, there never can be an adequate answer to **that **question: not in the usual sense."

I just nod again, and say, "Oh, OK. Well, it's all good, then."

He raises one of those brows again, "Yes, 'all good'- that it is. Interesting phrase."

I sigh, "Oh, I'm odd sometimes."

He shrugs, "Oh, not so odd. Simply interesting. And, since you seem to want me to ask you more questions, I will oblige you."

He sits up straighter in his chair, and addresses me with mock seriousness, "So, Miss Shrimpling… or should I say, Kaitlyn- I realize I called you by your first name, and you raised no objections to this familiarity. Why is this?"

I know I'm blushing again, "Oh my. It's true, isn't it? Well, it's probably YOUR fault- _Sebastian_- not really having a first or last name."

He seems to agree, "Ah, yes. My intentional ambiguity; not wanting to face my former name out of disappointment in myself. It really breaks the frame of formality, doesn't it?"

I reply emphatically, "I would say so!"

He folds his hands thoughtfully, "Well, how do we want this to go? Over time, I myself have grown ever more tired of rules and strict protocols. I rather enjoy the idea of relating to you without such things."

I swallow nervously, "Oh, I think we need a few rules though, don't you?"

He tilts his head and rests his chin on his folded hands, "Did I not already tell you that your virtue is in no present danger from me? What else do I need restraint from?"

I find myself thinking it might help if he were indeed in restraints- he all-too-obviously misses having a lady as a companion- but the last thing I need to do right now is move the conversation toward bondage, no matter which of us is figuratively in it.

I shrug at him, "I don't know what you need. I'm not in charge here, though."

He looks smugly pleased, and says, "Now, that can be our main rule. We are agreed that I am in charge here."

I nod, "I have no objection to that. If my personal integrity is respected."

"And it will be, since you are such a very good girl. You may be spirited, but I'd say you don't mind being obedient if you like the person you are obeying." He smiles.

I have a strange feeling we've just "negotiated" something more than it would seem... people probably would say I should've voiced at least a slight objection... but I also have the feeling I've done the right thing in spite of how others might counsel me. Against my better judgment, I... I like him!

He leans forward in his chair, and says, "Now- I want to make sure we get some more basic information out of the way, though. I was told you are 27 years old. Is that correct?"

"I _was_. But I presume I must be much older now."

"Yes. Very true. I was born in 1844, so I am 415 years old!"

"Oh, my! Do I even want to think of it? Let's see, I was 27, going to be 28, oh goodness I was born in 1860, wasn't I?"

He studies my face closely, "You sound like your own birth year is news to you."

"Of course it isn't. I just realized, well, the Civil War, um, you know, the one in the U.S.-"

He laughs softly, "Why yes, I certainly do know of it. And I'd presume you'd think about it from time to time, as you are American."

"Yes, yes- I realize you are an intelligent man. I didn't mean to say you wouldn't know of it. Well, I, I was a baby during the war, wasn't I?"

He narrows his eyes more, "You just realized that?"

"No. Of course I knew that before. I meant to say... I don't know what I meant to say. Just babbling!"

"Is it nerves, still? I don't mean to make you nervous. Although, for the most part, the Vorlons have never made any effort to curb the eccentricities of my personality, so I don't know if it can be entirely helped. Hmmm... I'd swear they get enjoyment from knowing how easily I can move from entertaining people to frightening them."

"I'm sure you could scare people even without Vorlons."

He shrugs and asks, "Well, that's just what happens with people who are passionate in their beliefs, sometimes. Passion can be frightening."

"Right... passion now, is it? Are we talking about a different type than religious?"

"Oh, we very well might be. I can be passionate about many things, of course. Social justice, the arts...and just beauty in itself."

"Of course... uh, you know, I don't mind a bit of weird- I do like it, really, but you actually are getting too weird too fast, OK?"

He looks quirky, quizzical- "I'm 'getting too weird', am I? Sorry if I am. No matter what, such things are in my nature. And, I am trying to tell you, I have not been treated well by our supposed benefactors. They have done nothing good for my personality, really. I will try to moderate myself and take it slower, of course. What else can I do to help you be more comfortable with me?"

I surprise myself by stating bluntly, "Don't be Jack the Ripper."

Now he looks shocked, and worried. "Uh, what did you say?"

"You didn't hear me?"

"I did hear you."

I've clearly surprised him. "So, Sebastian- what are you thinking now?"

"I am of course wondering how you know I... did that?"

"From TV of course."

"How? I wasn't in the media much. Not as a formal suspect. Maybe you did see my face in the news coverage, and recognize me, but as far as the public knew, I wasn't a suspect."

"Wait- what? News? Are you talking about some documentary on the murders? See- I'm talking about a TV show about this very space station, a sci-fi show. And are you now saying you **do** believe I came from 1999?"

"You know you don't need to have been from the 20th century to have seen news on television. I grant the technology was crude in our day, and the poor couldn't afford it. They and the elderly relied on the earlier less expensive radios. You may not have been wealthy, but you were not poor, either. You went to University. Your clothing, while not luxurious, appears quite new and well-made."

"Huh?"

"What?"

OK, now I am officially confused. It seems he is, also, by the look on his face. He's not joking or teasing. His observations of my apparent social standing are interesting, but what's more interesting is he is saying television as a viable mass-communications medium existed in the 1880s and implying mass-audience radio existed even earlier. This is_ definitely_ not true. Is it? Yeah, I need to get hold of myself. I know this isn't true. This is absurd. But is it more absurd than waking up on a fictional space station? Not really. No.

Parallel universe? Maybe. It would make sense. But I don't think I want to get into a discussion of that yet. It is too much speculation, too complicated for the way I feel right now, and I don't want to have to try recalling every experience from my life just to prove I'm _not _from the 19th century. And what if I'm wrong? What if my memory truly isn't reliable, and my creative nature is filling in the gaps subconsciously? I certainly don't want to seem more insane than I am, do I? And frankly, I do feel less than sane right now.

"I don't know exactly how I know it then. Maybe things were the way you say. But I do know you did those murders- and I'm sure it doesn't surprise you that this knowledge makes me uneasy, regardless of how you try to behave decently toward me."

"Understandable. I can be uneasy around my own self sometimes."

"I find it oddly reassuring that you make yourself uneasy."

"Good. I want to be reassuring. I am a different person now than I was then. I am a better person for understanding how very wrong I was. I am almost a completely different person. Well, significantly different, anyway."

"I guess you'd have to be at least a little different. You can never walk through the same river twice."

"That's very true. And quite a lovely saying. I think I've heard it before. Where's it from?"

"Uh, Kung Fu."

"The martial art? I know it is rather spiritual for a fighting technique, but still, really?"

"Well... it was an American TV show. Back in the, uh, 70s, yes, let's just leave it at 'the 70s' for now. I don't want to quibble about which century."

"I don't want to _quibble_ about centuries either. I am simply concerned for your mental state."

So Jack the Ripper is concerned about my mental state. MY mental state. The irony makes me go for a sarcastic retort.

"I think my fragile lady-brain is doing quite well, given the circumstances."

He sighs with patronizing exasperation, "Please, I'd also be concerned about a man saying the outlandish things you are now."

And I feel properly patronized, "Would you really? Maybe. But would you be AS concerned?"

With a nervous smile, he admits, "Well, it is true I might be more concerned for you than I would a man. Honestly, though, I have good reason. I know it is possible for the Vorlons to underestimate the frailty of our species. And you are so... beautiful and dainty... and graceful... so very ladylike, you see. It's natural to care about someone so delicate."

Some would have a field day with what he's just said, but I just can't. So, I know I'm not a porcelain doll, but I also know I'm not especially hale and hardy. Also, a little part of me truly is the gentle creature he believes I am. I decide to be gracious, "Thank you for the concern, then. And the compliments."

We sit quietly and study each other for a few moments. We've been quietly studying each other a lot, I notice. I'm surprised at how much I've said, really. But what about him? He is not shy! Is he just out of practice? Has he been allowed to meaningfully interact with anyone he wasn't interrogating? I know he had a brief conversation with Sheridan when _that _particular business was over, but even that wasn't exactly full of pleasantries. He's probably had few non-confrontational conversations since his "recruitment".

Oh, I'm sure he talked to Vorlons, but I doubt talking to them was fun for him. This man has had a rotten 370 years. Oh, I know he clearly wasn't in 370 years of constant service. He'd be long dead. He was cryogenically asleep most of that time- but what kind of dreams must he have had? I bet he had crazy damn nightmares, and a lot of them.

_ And maybe I should try not to feel bad for him, since I know what he did, but damn, when it comes to murderers, especially serial killers, there have been far worse. Seriously. This guy was an amateur. And nowhere near the first like some think. His main claim to fame is purely and simply that he wasn't caught. Um, not caught by humans..._

"I do want you to realize that this 'Ripper' is not really who I am."

I resist the urge to ask "Who are you?" and let him continue, "That is a name people called the killer, as it helped to have a name- something more than just an abstract idea. But it had nothing to do with me as a person. That is NOT the way I wanted to go down in history! Not as a killer!"

"But you did kill."

"I can't blame you that such a thing frightens you."

"It frightens me less by the minute- you seem a lot different than what I expected. I mean, you are odd, but you definitely try to be nice to me. And much of the time succeed."

"Did it occur to you that my _pleasant _manner could be only a means to obtain your trust, so that I may harm you more easily?"

"Yes, it occurred to me."

He raises an eyebrow, "And?"

"I don't know for certain everything I believe yet. But I know what your real name was- which church you were Vicar of- the work you did to bring the arts to the slums to morally uplift people with fine culture- "

"Thank you for that. I'm pleased someone over in the States was paying attention to my _true _work." He looks truly grateful, too.

"Well, I did pay attention... and knowing what you really wanted for society, it- it _should _make it more difficult to imagine you committed those murders- but not necessarily- you were a religious man and you killed those you felt were sinful. It was a message about how sinful and corrupt society was. I know it was the wrong thing for you to do. I totally don't condone the method, but I understand how someone could think this- especially if they've just had a nervous breakdown. As for my personal level of corruption- while I am certainly imperfect, I know I am not a _major _sinner, and I think you can tell this too. And honestly since no one knows me here, even if were an unrepentant whore- there'd be no message. So, the more this day has gone on, the more I have considered that you probably have no interest in killing me."

"Indeed, I have no interest at all in killing you. None at all. I'll clear up the motive for my crimes later- on this you are only half right, if that. But you are absolutely correct that I do not want to kill you, or harm you in any other way. "

"All the same, I suspect there is something more than questioning that you are thinking about. Obviously I don't know specifics, but I've lived enough to guess the generalities."

"Well, when I first walked in, I simply intended to question and maybe counsel you, as that is my assignment. But, yes, I do have other ideas."

"Oh really? Do tell." I know what the other ideas are. He is NOT that transparent! Not at all!

"I cannot lie to you. I don't want to scare you, but I have to tell you that you are beautiful. I dare not say more than that, but I cannot ignore how much you appeal to me."

"Well, I'd like you to ignore my 'appeal'- for now."

"I can try, but impure thoughts keep flashing through my mind. I'm trying my best to limit them."

"And it isn't MY fault you are having those thoughts, is it?"

"No! Why would I blame a girl like you?"

"A girl like _me_? So there is a kind you _would _blame. A whore, I suppose?"

He gestures too emphatically, "Not what I meant- no- not what I meant."

I'm fairly certain I don't believe him, and I'm starting to get ticked...

"Oh, here- I don't need the coat now. I'm _much _warmer. Thank you for the use of it, though!" I take the coat off my shoulders and hand it back to him.

He says "You are welcome to use _anything _of mine that you need." then puts it back on, interestingly enough.

Use _anything _of his? Was that an innuendo? I don't care if it really was or not. I feel like snapping... sniping... but it's better to say it _coldly_...

"Oh, Sebastian- I already _knew _I was attractive, by the way. Men tend to tell me that rather frequently. I didn't need _your _opinion to confirm it."

"Oh, I would wonder about you if you _didn't _know it... there'd have to be something wrong. It would be as silly for you to pretend to be ugly as it would be to pretend to be stupid- anyone can tell immediately that you are neither one! Oh, they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder- but I'd wager most eyes beholding you would be in perfect agreement with mine!"

What? Doesn't he get that I wanted him to shut up about this?

I am about to lose my cool, if he doesn't stop.

"They probably would. So what? I should let you say that type of crap, then? Want to know something? How serious I once was about my faith? Back when I was 11 or 12 years old, I thought of becoming a **nun**. I probably should have become a nun. A cloistered one! Gotten away from _men _forever. If I'd just become a nun, I probably wouldn't be in this situation now."

"I don't know about that. But I do know *I* am also _in_ this situation. I have simply decided to look at the bright side of it. Thank the Vorlons, not me."

"Well, fine- let me call it a 'predicament' then- YOU, as a MAN- and a MAN almost a foot taller than me, with a much larger frame and stronger muscles than I have- yeah, **I know how deceptively strong you tall, thin wiry types can be**- YOU are not the one in a predicament, I am! And let me tell YOU, Sebastian, being a nun would be a lot different than being a Protestant preacher, who can marry. And you _did _marry, and had that nice extra... _distraction_... which I'm _sure _you enjoyed. She was _quite _a pretty woman- I've seen _her _picture, in addition to yours... Oh, I might even say she was _beautiful_. But don't let me digress, here... The Catholic Religious Orders and the Priests- well, as I'm sure you know, they cannot marry PEOPLE! They marry their **FAITH**! It's a big difference, don't you think? Very big if you ask me. I should have stayed at the all-girls' school! Not attended one with _**FILTHY BOYS!**_ If I were a Nun, I'd be a Bride of CHRIST! **I'D MARRY THE CHURCH!**"

Now, he has a patronizing smirk- "Oh, MY! You certainly ARE a Catholic girl! If you are finished berating MEN and PROTESTANTS, tell me something- WHY didn't you do it? Or, why don't you go DO IT NOW?! You could try, at least! GO out there!" Now he is gesticulating emphatically, toward the door, "GO! RUN FROM THIS ROOM! Go screaming for a Catholic Priest, so you can tell HIM about your brilliant plan of SUDDENLY becoming a NUN just because a man has DARED to say you are beautiful!"

"You've done more than SAY I'm beautiful! You confessed to IMPURE thoughts! And- and- YOU LOOK AT ME with THAT LOOK! And your body language- OOOOH, your body language speaks VOLUMES about what you are thinking! But I CAN'T go be a nun! Not at this point of my life. I'm not religious enough any more to be a nun, for one thing."

"Really? At the moment you seem more fanatical than I EVER was!"

"I'm spiritual. Not religious. Two related but different things... I'd think you, of all people, would realize that!" But then again I did just go off on him for daring to lust! That sounds like a religious nut... oh my goodness. I just out-preached a preacher...

"I do realize it. But at this moment your ranting is making it very easy to think you unreasonable- though you truly are not. Just take a moment to come back to sense. Breathe." He's doing this intense gaze thing again, like he thinks he can control me via hypnosis. And I freeze and start to wonder if maybe he really can.

He moves closer to me, reaches out, and puts his hands on my shoulders- I want to scream DON'T TOUCH ME but instead I just look up at him, without saying a word. Breathe, he says? I am definitely breathing! Hard. Fast. And I'm getting a bit dizzy. Oh, more than a bit-

I feel dizzy... dizzy...

Like I could fai-

... ... ...

My head is still swimming. But I'm coming back. In focus. Focus.

I see the ceiling. I guess I'm laying down. I'd say I fainted, then. I've got a damp rag on my forehead. Where'd the water come from? Or the rag, for that matter.

I am laying on the bed, atop the covers. Fully clothed, thankfully. Hey, you never know... He _could _have taken it upon himself to loosen my stays- you know, to be "helpful" with my breathing- but he didn't. I give him credit for that. It would have been such an easy excuse to use.

I turn my head- there he is. He's pulled up a chair right next to me. I raise my head and shoulders up slightly.

"No. Don't try to get up yet." He leans forward. Brushes a finger down my cheek, my chin. Tells me to relax. Strange how his touch is doing just that- relaxing me. I am taken in by the eerily dreamy look in his eyes, as he reaches down and takes my hand, holding it softly. Of course, I DO still remember how very upset I was with him before I fainted- but NOW... now I don't care. I have nothing to say, either. I don't know if he's doing something to me, or if I'm doing something to myself, or if it's both- which is most likely- but I feel much better.

Quietly, he says, "It's probably best you had a good scream at me. Got it out of your system. I know I went too far. You can't be very happy to be here. I didn't and wouldn't expect you to be, really. You need time to realize you're just not going back home, no matter how much you want it. And to realize, we are in this together. Let it sink in. You are here, truly here- and if that is the case, then I am truly here also. I'm not a dream- or a nightmare- whichever way you'd view me. I am a man. Just a man. No matter what arrogance I've spat out in my life, however many times I thought I was the only one who knew the truth. Just a man who wants to get to know you in any way possible- any way you will let me."

I can't think of anything to say in response. But I don't need to. He's said more than he has said, and that is plenty.

Silently he removes the damp rag from my forehead and helps me sit up. Then I look to the end table, and see... a knife. He notices where I'm looking, sits next to me, and tells me, "Yes, that was in my pocket the entire time. That rag was wrapped around it. You have to be cautious with something so sharp. And yes, it is THE knife. You do see, though, there is no blood on any of it. I take care of my property." He looks like he expects me to faint away again, but I don't, even if I do wonder whether he thinks I'm going to be his "property" now. He's put his arms around me- in a protective way, since I did of course faint- but I shiver warily against him, and he loosens his grip a bit. Pleased that he relented slightly in reaction to my fears, I now find I DO want to lean against him, closer- as he softly whispers, "So, you see- if I'd wanted to harm you- I very, very well could have. But I did _not _harm you- as I did not _want _to." Now with my head on his shoulder, I say, "I see. Yes. I see. Um, where'd you find water?" He looks confused a second, then says, "Oh! It was from a thing called a 'mini-bar'- erm, behind **that **panel right there- you truly are missing out on things from reading that novel instead of the room guide!" I laugh, "Of course!"

"Now, my sweet girl, we need to find something to do. I want to stay here longer before I retire to my own room for the night, but sitting with you like this, nothing else demanding my attention, is pure temptation."

"We could see if there's anything good on the Vidscreen."

"Ah. Good idea. You can get a better feel for the times you are living in."

He retrieves a remote control from the same desk drawer he got the instruction manual from earlier, and we head over to the sofa. He turns the vidscreen on, and ISN news appears on the screen. Maggie Egan is not the anchor. I don't recognize the woman at all. Maybe it's a day off?

Sebastian asks, "Before we get situated, would you like some refreshment?"

"Oh- why thank you- yes, please."

He walks back over to the mini-bar, and taps it open. Looking inside it, he asks, "Did you ever drink that 'Coca-Cola'? Had it been distributed in your area yet?"

"Oh, I've had it. It's quite good."

"Would you like a bottle, then? They have it, but I can tell you, sadly, it no longer contains cocaine. I first tried it during an assignment in the late 1890's, and it was great then, but well, next thing I knew it was the 21st century, and I learned they'd taken the actual 'Coke' out of it in 1908! It is still a bit of a 'pick-me-up', but not nearly as much."

"Oh, it'll do plenty fine for me, cocaine or not. I'm sure I don't need THAT level of energy to sit here and watch television! My goodness!"

"Ah, this is true. Perhaps we should go with something more relaxing. A red wine, perhaps?"

Wine? Do I want to sit here and get drunk with him? I don't think so! Certainly not so soon!

"Oh, no alcohol for me. Please. The cola will do."

"Hmm, so are you a complete teetotaler? One of those 'Temperence' ladies?"

"I do lean that way. I've had bad experiences when drunk, and I also know how terribly it can make otherwise good people behave."

"I see. Very well. We'll have two Coca-Colas, for now, then."

He hands me my Coke, with a smile.

The news is honestly not that much more exciting than it ever was. The main difference is that conflicts now often take place between entire planets. And... now the news is over, anyway. We only caught the last few minutes of it.

But now- look at this! Wow. A real-life commercial for Cheesy Spoo! "Now, see, Sebastian! I've heard of THAT, there, the Cheesy Spoo." He laughs, "Probably. It's one of the most popular foods in this part of the galaxy, and one of the few 'treats' the Vorlons usually have on hand for us sentients who _eat food_. Maybe I'll go out and grab you some at the Zocalo in a little while here."

"So, everything I know about just amuses you." He blinks and asks, "What do you mean?" I shake my head, "You know! Anything I know about in this time, you just laugh and say, 'Well, of course you do!' as if I know it because of YOU somehow? I'm really baffled, to be honest."

He tilts his head, looks up, thinking, "I suppose there's something I should tell you. About you... and me."

He should tell me something? I'm nervous now! "Uh, tell me what?"

He smiles, and looks dreamily up at the ceiling, then deeply into my eyes. "We have a connection. A direct one. Just between us." I squint like he's from Mars, "What? Like a telepathic one? Look, Sebastian, the only time I've known what you're thinking is when it's what any other **man **would be thinking! Got it? Oh my- you can't read MY mind, can you?" He laughs, "No, no. It's not like that. I can't 'read' any of your thoughts- but I pick up sensations that indicate your thoughts about me aren't as different from my thoughts about you as you've tried to let on." Oh dear. He does know... or he's just trying to unsettle me. Either way, at least it's not direct thought reading. That would just be... scary... but this is scary, too, though... shit. If I can't even pretend I'm not interested... well, shit.

He continues, "If there is no pretense, you'd think it really ought to mean a bit less tension. I'm not left wondering if you want me the way I want you. I know the answer to that is yes. Oh, but there are plenty more questions! What to do about our era's morality toward such things, for example. And, in that regard- I have no expectation that you would suddenly behave like a whore, no matter how you feel about me."

I laugh abruptly, "Oh, well thank you for THAT! Considering what you-"

He cuts in, "There are far more whores I _didn't _kill than did, my dear. And just so you know, there were never going to be dozens of bodies. Never more than six, or seven, eight if it had to go that far. Well, never mind that. I suppose, in reality, I am no longer a Vicar or Reverend or anything of the sort. God knows I don't feel like one. But I know it would be unwise to completely abandon propriety, at least for now. Suffice it to say, if I have you on your knees tonight, it'll be for prayer, nothing else."

Now I'm just staring in stunned silence at where he went with those words. On my knees, indeed! And yet, I AM turned on... Oh my.

Somehow now we manage to both recall we have the Babcom on and _had _been trying to watch it. I have no idea what has been on since the Cheesy Spoo advert, since most of my brain was fully occupied with Sebastian. I'm frankly surprised I remember the conversation started with Cheesy Spoo, considering where it went after that. As for the vidscreen, it appears some game show is now on. One participant is Human, one is Minbari, and the third is... oh no... what's wrong with my brain, here?

I find my mind blanking on the name of the species. All I can think of is breen, their version of Swedish meatballs! But the name of the species... nothing! That's impossible. "That race, there- the uh, the- the lizardy people- um, oh goodness. I can't think of-" Sebastian obligingly says, "Those are Narn. Very tough, very strong." I am so frustrated, "Yes. I knew that. I just couldn't think of it!" He shakes his head, "You don't have to keep pretending you _know _these things. I don't expect you to be familiar with things you have never truly seen. Whether your astral form was still alert enough to see things- and that does happen, even with deep stasis- or due to our connection your mind absorbed transmissions sent to me, it is easy to explain where the snippets you do know came from. Just relax about it."

I ask, "Hey, if there's this 'connection' why don't I seem to sense it as much as you do?" He thinks a moment, and says, "It's probably just temporary disorientation, honestly. Probably nothing more than that. We'll see if you feel more of it tomorrow or the next day. I do know it is real. Not only do I feel it, the Vorlons told me it's there."

He puts his arm around me again and pulls me close to him. I wriggle my shoulder a bit, and he sighs, withdraws his arm, and folds his hands, with an apologetic smile. He says, "Well, I suppose you can be assured it isn't true telepathy now- I didn't think you'd object to a bit of gentle cuddling."

"Do you swear you won't try anything else?"

"May I then hold you, if I _do_ swear to it?" I nod, "Yes. You may." He sighs, "Then I swear I will not try anything else. Happy?" I nod again, and soon he embraces me, and I am nestled quite comfortably against his side.

He tells me, "You don't know what it means to me to be able to just hold someone like this. You… you have no idea… and honestly I am glad you don't." I begin to realize the depths of loneliness and depression he must have felt over his time with the Vorlons. I truly do feel for him. Isolation is hard on most people. Even though I do better by myself than most people, I don't _always_ like to be alone.

As for the vidscreen, we certainly aren't watching this silly game show. It's background noise. We talk about Babylon 5. The actual station, not the show! I'm finding that I don't remember as much about the show as I thought I did, anyway. We also talk about Vorlons. He has quite a bit to tell on that subject! Much of it very unpleasant. Then he talks about his old life, on Earth, in the 19th century. I know, of course, that much of that was unpleasant. I start to wonder if he's ever been truly happy, until he mentions how he enjoyed walks in nature, art, music, and beauty in general. Which leads to more mention of how sweet and pretty I am, how wonderful it is to be here with me, and the first truly happy look I've seen on his face.

I'm presuming his wife has to have elicited the same look from him in the past. I'm presuming the reason he didn't mention her as a source of happiness to me is simply because he has the sense not to, rather than any other reason. I know how real their love was. But she isn't here, as she cannot be.

Now I start talking about all manner of trivial things from the past and present. The deep is scaring me at the moment. After what must be the sixth time losing track of what I've been yapping about, realizing it must confuse him- if even I don't know what I'm saying, I notice his bemused look. I say, "I'm sorry- I forgot what I was saying- while I was saying it. And I don't know what's with me, anyway. I never talk this much. Well, not NEVER, just, not often- especially so unstoppably and so- what am I even SAYING?"

"It doesn't bother me one bit, floating on this sea of words. I enjoy just being in your presence. I don't need every moment to be coherent."

"Oh. I see. It's even more than my pretty face. You, um, you legitimately like me, don't you?"

"Like you? That's one way to put it."

"How else would you put it?"  
"That I find you utterly, completely fascinating."

"Oh. Well, I'd say you're fascinating, too."

"Thank you. So, the fascination is mutual, and I will tell you- so is the fear you mentioned earlier."

"Really? I thought I felt that from you, at first, but then thought it was my imagination. What you could possibly have to fear from me I can't even-"

"You cannot even imagine? Then can you imagine the isolation I have felt? My only interactions with my own, or similar, kind being expected to interrogate them? Imagining that might tell you some of what I have to fear from you."

"You... NEED me to like you, don't you?"

"Exactly."

"Because if I don't-"

"I will still be alone.

"Alone. On a space station with how many thousand inhabitants?"

"No- No- Alone in the Universe."

"Y'know, people laugh or scold me if I say something that dramatic."

"They shouldn't. And I never will."

"But, yes, isolation in the middle of a crowd. I _get _that feeling, I _understand _it. It happens to me frequently."

And I wonder, how did I go from thinking, what still seems like only a couple months ago- that I never wanted to be in a relationship with a man ever again- to sitting here falling in love with Jack the Ripper?! And I wonder if I could have lost my mind. But I don't feel like I've lost my mind. I feel like it's been lost for years and I've just found it.

Which I suspect means I have indeed lost it...

* * *

***Sebastian***

"Are you starting to feel hungry?" I ask her. She looks confused a moment. She asks "What?" I admit it was a bit abrupt of a change in topic. But I am indeed feeling the need to eat again, all the more so as I know I can get real food here on the station!

I tell her, "Maybe I should take that trip back to the Zocalo now. I can pick up lunch, supper, snacks. Cheesy Spoo. Anything you want. The Vorlons gave me a false identicard absolutely loaded with funds."

She exclaims, "You have an identicard!" and I realize she doesn't have one. "I will speak to Kosh and see about getting one for you. We can't go through the usual channels, of course. We don't officially exist in this time. Indeed, it would be a very bad idea for you to leave the room without a card. I doubt you can escape quickly and hide like I can with my, um, experience in such things." Oh, so suave of me to remind her I'm the Ripper again! You should've quit while you were ahead, Sebastian. Goodness.

I ask her, "Is there anything specific you would like to eat? I am definitely getting some Cheesy Spoo for you to try, but I am sure you'll want more than that." Almost immediately she says, "Chicken paprikash. That's what I'd like. Whether or not you'll find it, I don't know." I think a moment, "Is that an Eastern European dish? Is that what you are? Slavic? I know you look more exotic than your name." She laughs, "Exotic? Oh, my! That's funny. But I am indeed part 'Slavic'- Slovenian to be exact- and Sicilian, French, German. That's how Americans are." I smile, "Of course! You are an American. I mean no offense. Now, I will see what I can do for your chicken, but it might have to be a different type of recipe." She nods, "Oh, I'm sure, but it was the first thing that came to mind. So I said it." And she laughs.

I say, "Very well then, chicken, Cheesy Spoo- and a few surprises! I'll be back as quickly as I can."

I run my errands quite uneventfully. Kosh explains that even Vorlons are not perfect, plus they have a lot to do with the coming Shadow war and all, so small things can sometimes get overlooked. An identicard will be ready for Kaitlyn by tomorrow, though.

I return with my purchases. The door opens immediately and Kaitlyn explains she was watching the hall monitor for my return. Oh. She really does like me. Or she's very hungry. Either way, I am pleased to settle back in with her.

"The chicken is fried. Best I could do. We'd need to go to a proper restaurant for anything more sophisticated. But now. Here is the Cheesy Spoo. Tell me what you think of it."

"Mmmm. It IS good! It's, um, cheesy! And, uh, spoo-like, I guess, too. But definitely very good and cheesy!"

"Ah. I am so glad you like it. That makes me happy. To see you happy. Even though I barely know you. It truly does. But I think I know you more than I do."

"Oh, well, maybe you do. Know me more than... you do."

She blushes, and looks down and starts eating the fried chicken. We finish this, while yet another inane game show finishes up.

We then return to the sofa, to sit more comfortably again.

Within minutes, though, I am disturbed at what is announced on the vidscreen.

Oh, my Lord. Now, on ISN, an in-depth report about *serial killers* is coming up next! THIS should be very interesting! But I'm not sure if I want such a thing on with Kaitlyn here. Not only might it frighten her in general, they might say something to specifically make her scared of ME again, when I am just starting to gain her trust.

The narration begins, "Serial killers- what motivates them? Why do they still exist in our enlightened times? Can the new mind-wipe technology really cure them?"

Uncomfortable, I quickly say, "I think we've watched enough for tonight." She says, "Oh, I don't know. It's such a curious thing, I'm so new to this century! I could watch all night!" I sigh, "Oh, we CAN watch more, if you truly wish it, but I don't think we need to watch a program of THIS sort!" Like a disappointed child, she asks, "Well, I want to, so why not?" So now I have to be the disciplinary adult, of course, "It is inappropriate for a young lady!" Now, she just tries to tease me, "Do you think so, Sebastian? Why, I want to know how to keep myself safe from murderers!" It's such an obvious ploy to taunt me with the subject matter. And yet, she gives me a really wide-eyed innocent, helpless look. I have to at least pretend not to know what she is doing... as I do not want to get angry with her. "Kaitlyn! They most likely won't tell you that on this program! They will just say things that would frighten and upset you! And that makes it wrong for me to allow you to view it, as I do not want you to be unnecessarily frightened or upset!" She looks at me with a pout, and crosses her arms. "Fine, be that way, then," but the tone is more toying than petulant.

The narrator says, "Serial killers have been around for centuries, but one of the most notorious remains that unknown, mysterious, legendary terror of 19th century Britain, Jack the Ri-" I click the remote VERY quickly, and nearly shout, "Ooooo, there must be SOMETHING ELSE on! " A sports channel is next. I leave this on for now.

Kaitlyn says, "They were going to talk about you, er, I mean, about your crimes. I kind of know that's why you switched it so fast."

I nod, "Yes, but why would watching THAT interest you? They'll just say the killer was a terrible evil man, someone you would never want to meet." "Oh, I'm sure they will. And make our era sound backward too. I'm sorry. I was teasing you because I wanted to see how you'd react if they happened to mention 'Jack'." I say, "Well, you saw. Obviously it makes me uncomfortable. And on these modern shows they always talk like I did it out of some sick sexual perversion. THAT type of talk is what I truly did not want you hearing. It is simply NOT TRUE, and would very much frighten and disturb you. The subject of the murders is not something to play with me on. We can discuss them factually. I can tell you what I did and why, but I don't want you joking about them! Do you UNDERSTAND, young lady?" She looks down and says, "I'm sorry. I just... forgot you were real, I suppose. I slipped into thinking of you as a mass-media creation instead of a person, even with you right here in front of me." I sigh and shake my head resignedly, "Don't be too hard on yourself. It is understandable. But I **am** warning you to WATCH YOURSELF!" She looks frightened. I don't want her to be, but obviously such things are stressful for me.

The sport on now is something neither of us can identify. I am not even sure what species the athletes are. I do know I've never interrogated one. I'd remember talking to someone with a two-foot striped tentacle atop their head. They are using it to carry a stick. They move rather slowly.

I flippantly ask Kaitlyn, "Have you ever seen someone like _that _on your little television show?" She sighs, and admits, "No. I haven't. Never saw anything like that before in my life." After a few minutes, the novelty of the participants' looks wears off, and we both agree that, whatever it is we are watching, it is excruciatingly boring. She begs me to please turn on something else, and I switch channels again. Click!

Next channel- and now a movie is on. The music is terrible and sounds somehow sexually suggestive to me. And there's a pretty blonde who needs to put on more clothing...Heavens, does she need more clothing... could this be pornography? Are they allowed to openly show this type of filth in this century? How awful!

I say aloud, "I wonder if this is the sort of thing I _think _it is," and then on the vid, an unusually muscular man with a half-open shirt gets up from under the kitchen sink, over-dramatically wipes his brow, and says, "Your sink is fixed, Miss. That'll be 100 credits." The blonde twirls her hair with her finger and says, "Gee, I only have 50! How can I possibly pay you?"

Yes. This has to be pornography. I roll my eyes in disgust, although that girl certainly has a pleasing shape... no, no, no, I mustn't think of that. Especially in the company of poor Kaitlyn, who is already angry with me for admitting to finding _her _attractive. "I don't think we want this..." I am ready to click, but I am so terribly, terribly curious. And Kaitlyn just watches innocently as she says, "That girl doesn't have enough money, and that man wants to be paid! What do you think will happen? The man will be angry, don't you think?"

I simply cannot take my eyes off the screen, as the blonde and the plumber eye one another suggestively and the awful music continues to play. I tell Kaitlyn, "I doubt he harms her. No, it's just a certain type of picture where, um, certain things, between adults, um, happen... "

The plumber advances very close to the blonde and says, "I think I have an idea, sweetheart." The blonde giggles, touches his chest, and says, "I have an idea, too!" And I have more than just an idea of where things are going now. If I let the stirring I am beginning to feel in my nether regions continue, Miss Kaitlyn just might notice it. These trousers are quite fitted. I announce, "Hmmm... I have a feeling this moving picture might be inappropriate for you to watch," and click the remote before I get just a bit _too _aroused for both of our comfort.

The next channel is almost an instant solution to my problem. The _other_ discomfort again, only worse this time. That same ISN report about serial killers is on, in an alien language with subtitles, "Many serial killers begin by harming animals. Often cats are the victims of these crimes-" Kaitlyn cries out, looking at me imploringly, "Oh no no no! Oh Sebastian! Not you? Not cats, not cats!" Her eyes are pleading with me- and while I never did harm a cat, I still feel guilty that some wishing to emulate my "legend" probably have done so. By never coming forward and taking the blame I deserved, I ensured that future generations would misinterpret _**the other part of my message: that society treats the poor as cruelly as it treats animals!**_ Thus, indirectly, I have contributed to the horrific deaths of all sorts of innocents- human or otherwise.

Shaking inside, I try to intone with an emphatic calm I do not feel, "I am not a psychopath or sociopath. I snapped quickly after a nervous breakdown. Aside from my difficulties with... prostitution and the general immorality around me, I also had a thing against cruelty in slaughterhouses. I am sure you know this if you've read as much of me as you say."

She nods, silently, her eyes less despondent, but now more wary. I sigh, I breathe- trying not to be agitated in a different way now, I continue, "They can do this modern talk of profiles all they want, but I'm not a profile. I killed humans from the start. ALL RIGHT?" and click again. Poor girl. This has got to be too much for her! I have almost yelled at her again. I don't want to do that.

Another movie. A Minbari woman answers her door in a nightgown. A Minbari man holding a container speaks- in Minbari. Subtitles are shown though. "I'm here with the flarn you ordered, Miss." Then the woman exclaims, "Oh! By Valen, I can't find my money now! How will I ever pay you...?"

Click!

"And the Green Drazis have dropped the ball at the 30 yard line. Here comes the Purples' top kicker -"

Click!

"-of Mary Jane Kelly. Committing this last murder indoors allowed him time to engage in every perversion-"

I ask in exasperation, "Which perversions were they? My fetish for FOLDING LAUNDRY? That was not a night of wild abandon, but cold calculation. The woman in that picture, you see- is NOT Mary Jane Kelly, but someone chosen to take her place, so we could fake her death. THAT is the reason most of her face is gone." She looks very surprised, "Oh? Why- why fake her death?" I realize I've said way too much. I say, as dismissively as I can, "She wanted to leave England and not have any former lovers come looking for her, of course. Why else?" Kaitlyn doesn't look so much satisfied with the answer as unable to formulate a new question about it. Good. She looks confused, and for now that is perfectly fine with me.

Click!

Now there is what appears to be a Narn ballet on.

Well, this is... interesting... Hmm... "This is actually quite good, don't you think, Kaitlyn?" She agrees, "Yes, I am pleasantly surprised at how agile those Narns are. They move beautifully." What a relief to find something to watch that isn't infuriating!

"Ah, such power, yet such grace! Can you dance like that, Kaitlyn? Did you ever study ballet? You look like you could have. You move so gracefully." She laughs, "I DID dance, but when it comes to ballet, I never had formal lessons. I watched performances, looked at instructional books. But studying ballet on Earth wouldn't have me dancing exactly like that, would it? Their form is a bit more... aggressive, wouldn't you say?" I laugh also, "Well, yes, it is a bit different. But I was asking **if **you dance, more so than what style, really. You seem to be involved in so many art forms- though come to think of it, you have only **said **that you sing! You have not **demonstrated**!"

She looks nervous again.

I turn off the vidscreen.

"Kaitlyn, I wish for you to sing for me now. And this time I will not take 'later' for an answer."

Oh, does she look nervous! She doesn't say a thing, only stares at me.

I smile, and tell her, "Very well, I will make it easier. I will go first." And now, I understand, of course she feels nervous- she cares what I think of her, as I care what she thinks of me- but I have to sing now, since I said I would!

So I do- and for some reason the first thing that comes to mind is part of the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel's Messiah- and next thing I know, an operatic soprano voice- not quite a full dramatic, but still seemingly too large to be emanating from that small woman- blasts "FOR the LORD GOD om-NI-po-tent REIGN-eth!" right into my ear.

I jump, and exclaim, "Yes you CAN sing! By GOD, can you EVER!"

She seems a bit startled by my being startled, but quickly realises how delighted I look, and beams back at me.

Then we laugh, and I... I take hold of her- she gasps and looks up at me, as she is pressed against my chest, and I know I've lost control... but I regain it. I release her quickly, apologetically. "Oh, my sweet Kaitlyn, I am so sorry. I do not know myself, anymore, I swear! I was so overcome! Such a voice!"

This time, though, she is not upset with me. She keeps smiling, laughing. "Oh, Sebastian, it's quite fine! You said you were passionate over the arts! And you were correct about the beneficial effects of screaming at you earlier. I feel no need to do so now. Go ahead and embrace me, if you wish."

I say, "Oh I do wish to embrace you, and so much more." She doesn't even caution me about adding "more" on there, this time. I take her in my arms again, oh, how I want her- I breathe in her scent, feel her body against mine, hear and feel her breath and her heartbeat, so supremely aware of the very life force in her, feeling everything important in the entire universe right now is contained in this young woman.

I start to wonder if there truly is any reason to hold back- other than an objection from her, of course- from the things I want to do... Why shouldn't my hands wander anywhere they want? So, I let them drift downward, and confirm that, though her waist is firmly corseted, she is not wearing any type of bustle, only petticoats. And drawers, no doubt, _but if I groped her **that** closely, I'd want to slap myself_, let alone how offended **she'd** feel!

"Um..." is all she says, looking up into my eyes, before lowering them again.

Of course, she is embarrassed at what I just did, how I just tried to fondle her. Back in our time, I'd NEVER have tried to do such a thing to a girl I'd just met! I mutter an apology, moving my hands back up, one to her waist, the other tipping her chin up so she looks me in the eye. "Talk to me. Tell me 'no' if you are afraid of what I want. This is as much new territory for me as it is for you. I am operating on instinct more than is wise. I never liked to discuss such things- it always seemed so vulgar. I heard so little on such things as a boy, that I am only equipped to discuss them in the most base, vile terms I later learned from street types. Of course I do not want to say such things to a lady- but I have let some horrid references slip out anyway. Oh, our society had so many rules for the proper among us! The two of us, barely even introduced, let alone acquainted, would not have been left alone in a room like this. We would not face such temptation! Please, please help hold me back."

She says, quietly, "I can try, but could I possibly succeed? Oh. I don't want to be afraid." I whisper, "I know. But you are afraid." She looks down again, "It's not just you I'm afraid of. It's me."

Now we are getting somewhere, if she can admit that to me! So, why shouldn't my lips now meet hers? I tilt her face back up toward mine again, tighten my hold on her waist, and I-

beep beep beep beep

We are both startled. What is that sound? Oh, I know what that infernal beeping is, but HOW? Why?

beep beep beep beep

"OH! What IS that? It's over there! " She exclaims, as she turns away from me toward the source of the beeps, and asks, "Am I getting a call on the Babcom?"

I'm frustrated, exasperated, "Who in eternal **damnation **could possibly be calling- " then the machine announces, "Call from Captain Sheridan!"

I sigh loudly, "WELL, that explains THAT!"

I gradually loosen my hold on her, and she wonders, "Why would he call me, though? Does he know I'm here?"

I shake my head, slowly, "No, he doesn't. Or, at least he does not know of you specifcally. What he knows is that I have a new... assignment. So, I'm sure he isn't calling you. He knows I'm here, and which rooms I've been in and out of."

"Should I answer it, Sebastian?"

"I don't know why he's trying to call us. What's his problem?"

"If I answer it, we'll find out."

But I don't want her to answer it! So, I say, "What if it isn't really Captain Sheridan? What if it's a trick of some sort?"

This is far-fetched and she knows it, asking "A trick by whom? Aside from the Vorlons, who else knows we are here?"

I admit, "I don't know who would or could play such a trick, honestly. I did make a couple trips to the Zocalo, but I know I wasn't followed. The truth is, I just don't want to stop holding and caressing you."

"So? I should ignore it?"

"Yes. If it's important, he'll leave a message. But I am certain it is of no consequence. He just doesn't like me. Now, I believe I was about to try to kiss you, when I was interrupted by that noise."

She smiles and says, "Yes, it seemed like that's what you were going for. And about that, well, I'm not so sure now that it's a good idea. It can wait a day or two."

I try not to look as disappointed as I feel, as I say, "So, the mood is broken, isn't it? Damn that Captain Sheridan. It's **his **fault I don't get to kiss you yet."

I also notice Kaitlyn has started to look a bit tired. It's been too much for her.

I'd better go soon and let her get some rest.

* * *

***Kaitlyn***

"Kaitlyn, why don't you sit down? You look uncomfortable." He's pointing to the sofa now, and also guiding me back to it.

With slight annoyance I say, "I've been uncomfortable all day. Waking up in a strange place and then spending hours with a strange man who is also strangely familiar to me- it can do that."

"I meant physically. I notice you look very tired."

"Oh. I am. Aside from being a bit exhausted, it's been a while since I've spent this many hours straight in full day dress. I'd be relaxing in my nightclothes by now, were I home with my parents."

"Ah. Yes. Fine clothing can do that. We want to be on proper behavior, but I do know what you mean. Would you like me to leave so you may feel safe to retire in comfort?"

"I don't know- I mean- I really don't know. I feel so confused."

"So, do you want me to stay- for a _little _while?"

"I don't know. I want both things, I think."

He smiles sympathetically, "Conflicting thoughts and feelings- in this situation you face- make perfect sense."

"I just don't even know what I think is best."

"I will be right next door. If I hear anything odd, I will be here immediately."

"You're going, then?"

"Only for the night! And truly, I don't want to go- but if I stay much longer, I will start getting too confused, myself." Before I have time to ask what he's confused about he asks, "What time do you want me to come here in the morning?"

"Uh, not too early, so I can be ready, not too late, though. Maybe 9?"

"9 it is then. Please, do be ready. I look forward to it."

He watches closely again, as the door closes. Our eyes stay locked until the door fully separates us. I have the strangest feelings in my- in my- what? In my everything! My mind, my heart, my stomach, maybe even my soul.

I find myself trying not to think about him as I quickly unbutton my blouse, eager to loosen my stays. I don't want to imagine that he might be wishing he were still in here, eager to loosen them _for _me. That might lead me to imagine other things. Things I shouldn't imagine about either a murderer OR a vicar- and _especially _not about a vicar who murdered people. Who murdered prostitutes. Who murdered women. Murdered, murdered, murdered. He's a murderer. Yes, that's a mood killer, isn't it?

I sigh in relief at managing to cool myself down. It's the only way I can finish undressing, getting back into my nightgown, starting to relax. I start to relax by reminding myself that the man I've spent the day with; who I will also spend the next day with, has committed multiple murders. Every time I think I'm having a strange feeling, it's followed by a feeling that is stranger yet.

Will it be possible for me to sleep tonight? Oh, I know I am terribly exhausted. I know I felt like I was almost ready to faint away again- but with all that happened today?

Maybe I'll try to read a book. Except, that usually keeps me up, because I want to know what happens. Intense curiosity about damn near everything can suck sometimes.

I try to tell myself, other than waking up in a fictional place, and spending time with a fictionalized version of a real historical figure, today really wasn't all that exciting. Talking, sittting around, watching TV. And eating, of course. All I did, honestly, was spend the day "hanging out" with some man I don't know. Well, if I ignore the fact that he was totally trying to at least kiss me, and told me I'm beautiful and all that. No, it wasn't just hanging out, Kaitlyn! It was much, much more.

So, I certainly can't bore myself to sleep.

I never spent a day even remotely like this one before.

And tomorrow will be another very strange one, I presume.

* * *

***Sebastian***

As I walk back into my room, I notice my Babcom screen is blinking.

I check the messages. The first is from Kosh, telling me an identicard has been prepared for Kaitlyn, and I should pick it up as soon as possible.

The second, third, and FOURTH are all from Captain Sheridan!

The main goal of Sheridan's messages seems to be insulting various aspects of my manhood, accusing me of enjoying a variety of sexual perversions, and threatening to "kick my ass" and then "tear off my balls and feed them to a pak'ma'ra" and THEN kill me, if I set foot anywhere near "his woman" Delenn. Hmmm... it is pure masculine bravado meant to intimidate me. And I'd really _love _to see what would happen if he referred to Delenn so possessively as "his woman" in _front _of her!

In short, it is all a very grand comedy, quite entertaining.

Still, with three messages from the man, I suppose I'd best return the call, before he calls here yet again. And people called _me _obsessive!

"Captain Sheridan here- oh. You."

"Oh, me? Oh, me, WHAT? YOU are the one who left three VERY indecorous messages for ME. I am simply inquiring as to whether there was an actual point to any of it, or you simply wanted to hurl abuse at me because being under my control, even for a short time, made you feel emasculated."

"Emasc- uh, no. Of course not! I just wanted to know if you could give me any details about your activities yet."

"Perhaps I could. But why **should **I?"

"I walked by your room, and the one next door a couple hours ago. I thought I heard you laughing with a **girl **in that other room, Sebastian."

"You likely **did **hear that, Captain."

"So, this person you have your new 'assignment' with is a young female?"

"Yes, and if you heard us laughing together, I'm sure you realize I was not torturing her."

"At least not when I walked by."

"Not at all! I don't go **that far **on the **first **date, my good man! Why, I didn't even get a chance to _kiss _her."

"Excuse me? Kiss her? Date? Are you being serious?"

"Do you have problems with my seeing a young lady?"

"Not strictly speaking, but aside from the fact that it's a damn bizarre 'assignment', you could maybe guess why I'd be cautious about it."

"I'm disappointed in you, Captain. Not every woman was my type for THAT activity. You should know that. Now, she is **indeed **the type I desire on a long-term basis, but I must say no more on the subject. I am a gentleman as you know."

"Gentleman. Yeah, right. THAT'S the word for it. Sure."

"Oh, I'd ask what you think I am instead, but I doubt you could put it very eloquently. I think we are finished with this call, Captain Sheridan. You do not need to know whether I am courting this young lady, or we are, say, rehearsing a play together. Good night."

He tries to say something else, but I have signed off, and the screen goes black again.

The nerve of him.

Although he guessed a _couple _of the perversions correctly... I certainly would like to give sweet little Kaitlyn a good spanking on that nice round bottom. Well, in due time. We will get there.

* * *

***Kaitlyn***

Of course I have not fallen asleep!

I knew that would be quite a challenge, no matter how exhausted I feel.

I couldn't concentrate well enough to read a novel, so I now read the room guide and computer manual. I learn I can access a historical music library via Babcom. Listening to music might help me relax.

Apparently sound recording itself existed earlier in this Universe, too. Not much- but just enough that I am listening to JENNY LIND! And a much younger Adelina Patti than what we have records of in my universe. But if I could show opera fans back home what Jenny Lind actually sounded like, I'd be the most celebrated record collector- well, no. I wouldn't. No. It'd be called a hoax immediately. Unless I also found, say, the machine they were recorded on, could explain how no one else even _knew _about her recordings, let alone found them... So, really, it is a moot point, and of course, I don't know that I will get back home. I assume the Vorlons would have to send me back, if even _they _can. If coming from a parallel universe is even what happened, and not just my brains being like scrambled eggs after sleeping too long, as Sebastian seems to think. I have to agree his theory makes more sense.

Most likely I'm stuck in this time, as Sebastian said earlier. And I have a feeling I truly am meant to be stuck here WITH him. I suppose it could be worse.

I put on some piano music, which is more relaxing. I drift off...


	5. Obsession, Roses, Donuts, Laughs

***Sebastian***

It is quarter past two o'clock. I have not heard movement or fretful sounds from Kaitlyn's room for about an hour now. She must finally be asleep, which is good, as the poor dear girl needs her rest. Yes, even though she has slept for centuries. You don't wake to the type of surprise SHE got and not suffer ill effects from it! The fact that this is the 23rd century is possibly the least of the puzzlements she has had today. I know I couldn't have been easy to deal with, and probably caused quite a few ill effects myself!

And speaking of ill effects, a song has popped into my head and will not leave. Well, I will do it one better! I'll play it over and over again on purpose. That will teach it!

I walk over to the Babcom unit and whisper, "Music Library- 20th Century- Earth".

It answers a bit louder than I expect, "To play 20th Century Earth Music, please state a song, artist, album or genre."

I turn the volume down near the minimum and softly say, "Sarah McLachlan- Possession- the piano version, please. And play the song on a repeat loop."

Ah, yes.

Listen as the wind blows/ from across the great divide./ Voices trapped in yearning./ Memories trapped in time/ The night is my companion/ Solitude my guide/ Would I stay forever here, and not be satisfied?.

I understand there is an interesting story to this song, the lyrics being taken from letters by an obsessive, stalking fan of the singer. Technically, this means one should not call the feelings expressed therein romantic- however, one cannot deny they are passionate.

I don't think the girl Kaitlyn could understand, though, what it felt like for so many years to be up and about, knowing someone was there, whose energy I could feel, and that I was quite attracted to the energy I felt from her, but not knowing when I'd get to see her and know her, if ever. If she did, she'd have leapt into my arms the moment I told her how beautiful she is! It would matter not that she is a respectable lady, in the face of such feelings. It would not seem sudden to her, for it would not be, if she were waiting and wondering as I was.

Lucky girl, to have been so deeply out of it she is not aware of how long a time over three centuries is. I suppose I don't know exactly how long it is, as I spent much of it as deeply out as she was- but I had far more awareness than she did.

Yes, I realize I'm feeding my own torment, but now that I know Kaitlyn truly exists, and... and... thus it is only a matter of time before she becomes MINE, well, I fear no harm in indulging the guilty pleasure of torturing myself! The pain is enjoyable, when it is temporary.

I can't help but sing along now, "And I will be the one to hold you down, Kiss you so hard, I'll take your breath away! And after I wipe away your tears, just close your eyes, dear-" Oh, but I'd best not sing so loudly, my goodness. Don't wake Kaitlyn, you fool! And, no- I don't really want her to cry, but she's such a sweet girl, she just might do so at first. Especially if I held her down. That isn't polite. It's not what gentlemen do, but am I a gentleman? Once I was. But am I now? No, I am not. But I still don't want to hurt her. Not much. No! No! You don't want to hurt her at all, Sebastian! Just calm yourself. Calm yourself... Relax. Breathe. Relax.

Riddles and rhymes... words keep me alive... so true. I ache, yes, I ache. To breathe your breath... to breathe... breathe...

I am calm again, for the moment, just gazing at the darkness around me as I picture her in my arms. How delicious every moment will be, and oh, I won't need to dream or fantasize for there to be nothing between us. I will hold her, caress her, undress her, and I WON'T BE DENIED! Once I show her what she truly WANTS, she will NOT be PRUDISH! And as long as she ONLY wants these things from ME, none would DARE call her a whore! No! They would not dare! If anyone dares INSULT her, I've got a BLADE with their name on it! Ha!

I'm not staying calm very long, am I?

And I think to myself- I think- why don't I go see her right now? I don't have to go physically. I can project out of my physical body. And travelling "out of body" isn't "the occult", thank you. This is knowledge from God, not Satan. _Anyone is capable of travelling astrally. _Many are capable of more. No, this is not occult knowledge. It is perfectly holy and good. _God gave us many ways to be able to connect with those we love. _When you combine what you learn from Theosophists, with what you learn from Vorlons, it is all very easy too. I can go astrally- or, even etherically! Yes, I will go over there in etheric form! Just because I can. I won't have to wait until nine to see her! That is almost SEVEN hours away! A terribly long time, now that she is so close to me...

I turn the music off, and lay down. Use a relaxing visualisation.

I cycle through the colors of the rainbow in my mind, the chakras... breathe slowly, feel the vibrations grow and speed up...

I raise up out of myself. I walk through the wall, into Kaitlyn's room next door.

She is in bed, asleep.

So beautiful. So sweet. She looks soft, pure, and innocent. So innocent I think she needs a bit of corruption to even seem real! Hmmm... and I so long to give it to her! To be free to express desire! To admit at long last that love and lust are both valid feelings. Soon, soon, soon.

But for now, I can just stay here, looking at her, admiring her, and she does not even know. As long as I don't get too close to her, or touch her, anyway. I have to remember, I decided to bring more than just my astral self here... etheric forms can touch and, if enough energy is expended, even move, yes- _manipulate- _physical bodies. That would wake her. I don't want to wake her.

I want to see exactly how close I can get, though. I need to get closer. Just a few "steps"... Oh, yes. Look at her. Just look at her. So... helpless. I could do more than merely touch her in this etheric state. Much more. I could climb right on top of her, kiss her lips, kiss her neck, oh goodness... I could... touch her lovely, round breasts... Oh, yes! But- what in God's name am I thinking?

THAT would wake her up, I dare say!

And there's a damn good chance she has no idea one living person can, without the physical body present, do such things to another person's physical body. Most don't. I suppose, because most people can't _quite _go to the extent of etheric manipulation of the physical. Last time I tried, before Vorlon enhancement of my abilities, I certainly had a time of it!

And, if I did not wake her and ask her first, well, she'd be far beyond frightened. She'd think she was being attacked by a ghost, or something.

Yes, if you want to be with someone, it is far better to be there physically, but this way is still far better than not being near them at all.

And to merely project into the next room, it is so effortless! Miller's Court doesn't seem so far away from Toynbee Hall, but I did fail on my first attempts to find Mary Jane in this form. (And oh, did I startle her, when I succeeded!) I can only imagine how difficult it would be to go to someone nearly all the way across a large country such as the United States... well, luckily I didn't have to. I only had to go to the next room to be with this most beautiful little angelic creature... and oh how I want her!

I should just try to exercise some self-control, but I am finding it so difficult where she is concerned. But I have to try. I have to try.

Oh, she's stirring! I'm probably THINKING too much, too loudly! Ha ha.

I back away very slightly. But I will not leave unless she wakes. Then I will, so as not to alarm her. But if I do not disturb her, I have every right to be near her.

* * *

***Kaitlyn***

I wake up again.

I look up at the time, which I now know how to keep displayed on the wall panel to the right of the vidscreen- and it reads 3:33. In what time zone, I've no clue. Babylon 5 time, I guess. Anyway, it had been quarter past one last I saw, so I must have drifted off to sleep. The soft music I had selected is definitely finished playing, leaving what passes for silence here on the station.

I see movement out of the corner of my eye, and I could swear, I see a person there.

I glance over and see a transparent, ghost-like Sebastian watching me, in either a long white nightshirt, or possibly a type of robe. He looks away quickly, takes a few steps and disappears.

So, that's interesting, isn't it?

I've never had a visual hallucination, and I'm fairly certain this wasn't one. I'm quite proud to be a witch, thank you very much, and I know about astral projection. Although, the astrals I've seen were less distinct, somehow, than what I just saw. This was projection of some other non-physical body, probably something one must be more advanced to accomplish. Could it be etheric? THAT is some serious business. At least it would be for me! It'd be way too advanced, but... maybe he can do it.

At any rate, he took a very deliberate, intentional act. He came over here in a form that took effort. And the behavior was very much the "oops I've been caught" sort. He didn't really expect me to see him, even though he came over in a form I could see! He's acting a little weird.

I'm sure that feeling his presence enter this space is what woke me up.

I don't know how long it took me to notice him and wake up, so I don't know if he was doing anything as romantically creepy as watching me sleep, or if he decided to see if he could briefly pop over here as an experiment, just to see if he could.

Either way, he was here. He seriously couldn't stay away, and had to try "sneaking" into my room.

Wow.

He has it pretty damn bad for me.

Like, couldn't wait just a few more freaking hours, bad.

I don't know how I feel about that.

It's just not normal.

But why would I expect him to be normal? "Sebastian" and "normal" do not belong in the same sentence!

And what IS normal, anyway? Usually something mind-numbingly boring, I've found.

Yeah, I know there is a middle ground between "boring" and Jack the Ripper, but, hey.

I know I myself have feelings for him, and strong ones, yes- but I am definitely too confused at my whole situation to have it the way he does. Not yet, anyway. Do I want to get there? I'm thinking his level of emotion toward me is a bit irrational. Sharing in his madness could be dangerous. I may have few options, but I do not have to go fully mad, do I?

No. I do not.

But I can let myself develop some stronger feelings without going totally over the brink, can't I?

I hope so.

What I know for certain is: Sebastian's little bit of metaphysical mischief is going to make it more difficult to go back to sleep. Again. Great.

Well, I'll just meditate.

I know how to meditate.

A lot of times, I actually fall asleep while trying to do that!

* * *

***Sebastian***

It is seven in the morning now. I must go run my errands.

Yesterday, I tired myself more than I thought I would.

I wasn't recovered at all from Delenn and Sheridan's interrogation, and then, to face the excitement of meeting Kaitlyn, spending so much time with her, getting to know her...

This would have been tiring even without the little stunt of later projecting over to Kaitlyn's room not in mere astral, but etheric form.

Well, it was foolish.

But I did it.

I don't exactly feel like going out now. I have to, though. I have things to do. And I have to do those things before I can go out and about with Kaitlyn- which I very much want to do!

I know how to deal with being tired, though. I do what any sensible man of my time would do.

Just a little bit of cocaine, and I am feeling much better as I set out on my way to see Ambassador Kosh, to pick up Kaitlyn's identicard...

As I walk, I have the misfortune to again meet up with Captain Sheridan, who stops and asks, "Hello, again, Sebastian. Where are you off to now?"

Perturbed, I say, "We went through this yesterday!"

He rolls his eyes, "I was simply asking you a question instead of just ignoring you. I was, believe it or not, trying to be polite."

I toss my hands up, "Polite? Oh, so NOW you're polite? Fine. I am picking up some things for Kaitlyn, which are at Ambassador Kosh's quarters. That is all that I am doing right now. Does that satisfy your undue curiosity?"

I don't know why I have to keep meeting up with this man. I don't like it!

I feel myself, too close to the edge. The edge, edge, like a knife... edgy, edgy... jump! Jump! Over the edge... No.

Just stay still... just stay still... breathe deep... breathe... relax...

He asks, "What type of 'things' are you picking up?"

I give a stiff laugh, and ask back, "What is this? The Inquisition?"

He does a small snort-laugh in spite of himself, and says, "Good one."

I shrug, and reply, "I try. But, really, if you need to know, they've made an identicard for her. Seeing how neither she nor I can go through the normal channels for that."

He looks thoughtful, "That's true, isn't it? Neither of you would exist in contemporary Earth records. Well, I will overlook the fact you haven't gone by the book, since I know there's no way you could have. But more for her sake, not yours."

"Captain, anything you do for her sake, I appreciate more than you could know. I can scarcely express how fond I have already grown of this young lady."

"Hmm, it's pretty serious, then? Well, I wish you good luck in... everything. No, I mean it."

"Thank you, Captain. Good day, then."

"Yep. See you around."

Then with a nod to each other, we both continue on our separate ways as we had been before.

Well, I suppose it wasn't so awful speaking to him this time after all.

But I still don't like him.

And I'm sure he still doesn't like me.

Well, now I continue on to see Kosh...

For some reason it is much more trouble to meet with a Vorlon on this station than it is on their homeworld. But I head over to the Alien sector, jump through the requisite hoops, and see Kosh to pick up Kaitlyn's card, and whatever else he might have decided would be useful.

As Vorlons go, Kosh Naranek is relatively pleasant. I do not mind seeing him so much. If I could have talked to Kosh more often over the years, rather than the fiend who supervises my case, I would be a bit more sane than I am. I might even go so far as to call Kosh kind-hearted. At least, for an energy being.

After transferring some information-including a full station map- directly into my brain, Kosh tells me, "You are uneasy. More than usual."

I reply, "Yes. I certainly am. The cause is a pleasant one, as I'm sure you know- but it comes with many complications!"

Kosh advises, "Be thoughtful with the young female. Thorns pierce those careless with the rose."

Embarrassed, I admit, "I have moved too fast. I know. Far too fast. But you know how long I have lacked companionship."

"Yes. Understandable. Still go slower."

I nod solemnly, "I always said, 'The best thing to give is your heart', but I barely restrain myself from wishing to give her an entirely different body part which does not bear mention! It is most unbecoming for any gentleman to treat a lady the way I have treated her, let alone a clergyman such as myself. It is not as though I haven't seen a beautiful woman before- I was married to an exceptionally attractive one, after all."

"Yet you dallied with Miss Kelly."

"Yes, yes. I did. But no other did I stray with! And... well, I did not need to be especially forward with Mary Jane, as _she did engage in a certain occupation!_ Not that I excuse myself- I don't. In this I am simply saying there is no major similarity between Miss Kelly and Miss Shrimpling except youth and beauty. And, actually, there is yet another point- the fact that Mary Jane DID approach ME at first, not the other way around- goes to show I am not, or at least was not, the sort of man I am behaving as now."

Kosh pauses, before responding, "And you wish to know if ways we have intervened with your mind could make you behave so."

"Well, yes. I didn't want to be impolite, but yes. I do wonder."

"Perhaps, but given other things you were capable of, perhaps you simply _are _that sort of man when there appear to be no _consequences_."

"I fear the latter, yes. Very much. Oh, I do not want to hurt her!"

"Then do not."

"Right. Of course. But- "

Kosh is emphatic: "Just do not hurt her. It IS that simple."

"Yes. Yes. Of course it is. Of course it is. Thank you."

I bow respectfully, and leave.

Next I am on my way back to Kaitlyn, with her fresh new Identicard in my bag.

I manage not to stop at the Zocalo itself, but about twenty feet past it, an elderly woman- a flower vendor- catches my notice, "Hello, sir! You have the air of a man in love. Would you like a rose for your lady?"

I am about to protest that I don't have time for such nonsense, but she looks as poor as such old women back in Victorian London usually did. I smile at her, "Why, you are correct- I am in love with the most beautiful girl in the Universe. I shall indeed take **three **red roses, and she will have no question as to how true my love is." The old woman smiles graciously, and tells me, "What a lucky lady she is! You are handsome, charming, _and _generous! Plus so very well- if also very strangely- dressed." I casually say, "Oh, I am a historical re-enactor by profession. That is why I dress this way." I'd had that line ready in case anyone asked. Until now, no one had. I suppose with so many alien cultures, a human in historical clothing is not that much to remark on. After she goes on a bit about how interesting my work sounds, I tell the old woman I do have to get going, "I'd like to get the roses to my lady before they wilt, you know!" She laughs, "Oh, of course, sir! Nice meeting you."

Now I've done it. Red roses? No turning back from that, is there? If I give them to her. But of course I'll give them to her.

I stop back in my room first, for I realize I feel a bit over-stimulated from the cocaine I took. And from interfacing with Kosh.

I believe I shall fix this by smoking a bit of cannabis.

It is certainly a good thing the Vorlons had let me gather up some things before they took me way back when. My medicines have come in handy many a time over the years, and I very much need them now. I've always had nervous problems. I've always needed help keeping my thoughts clear.

Ah, that is so much better. I still feel alert, but much less agitated. I hardly want to wind up yelling or screaming at that poor sweet girl today. She's so pretty! Oh! It's one thing to snap at Sheridan only to have him say he was trying to be polite. Not a big deal. Offending Starfucker or whatever the Minbari call him means naught to me. But Kaitlyn, oh, Kaitlyn! I do so want to behave myself with her.

* * *

***Kaitlyn***

The Babcom rings, stating "call from Red 5, Unit 135". That is Sebastian's room next door. I answer right away.

"Kaitlyn, dear, I hope you are ready to go out for a walk."

"Almost ready."

"Good. I picked up a few things for you from Kosh, your identicard, for one. I will bring them over to you very shortly."

And...

I swear, it takes less than a minute before I hear the door ring, and his voice calling out on the intercom that he is here.

"Hold it, just a second!" I shout, lacing up my boots as quickly as possible, before I rush to the door and let him in.

Looking at me, his eyes don't merely light up, they glow.

They. Glow.

And- oh goodness!

"Roses! Sebastian! Surely those are not from Kosh!"

"No, definitely not from Kosh! But I didn't plan on buying them. I took pity on the old woman who was selling them. And seeing your face now, I am so glad I did."

"They are beautiful!"

"Not as much as you. And yes, I very much mean for them to be red, to declare myself. I love you, Kaitlyn. I love you."

I stammer, "Th-tha- thank you. I- I- uh, uh, me too."

Whether he accepts this as a nervous version of "I love you too", or simply understands he's sprung this on me suddenly, and thus a nervous stammer is all one can expect, he looks pleased with my response. He hands me the roses, carefully, and I sniff them. They are very fragrant, and the color is vibrantly red. And as I notice the color, it occurs to me, I vaguely remember reading the Reverend had red-green color blindness. Hmmm... well, if this version can have more hair and more height, there can be other differences, too, I suppose.

I only now notice the small black bag he has in his other hand. Sure that's suspicious, eh? But it's not a Gladstone bag, mind you. He puts it down on the table, and fishes out my identicard. I realize my picture is on it, which seems very odd, as I didn't pose for it. It's just one more odd thing on top of the other odd things which have piled on me. Nothing odder than most of the other oddness, honestly. I'm already learning to just accept these things. If I don't, I'll be asking "How" and "Why" all damn day. I just tell myself, "It's the Vorlons, it's the Vorlons, it's the Vorlons, stupid!"

As I fetch a water bottle out of the mini-bar, open it, and place the roses as artfully as possible in such a container, he asks me, "How does this sound for a plan? We will go out to pick up some more of those tasty donuts we had yesterday, and then we will take them to the gardens to eat. Then we will simply stay there and gaze at the beautiful surroundings as long as we feel we should."

"That sounds good to me." I reply, then ask, "And after that?"

"After that we'll make another plan. Or not. Maybe we won't have a plan at all. Hmmm. It might seem unlike me to say that order is over-rated, but with you, it is. It is. I want to just watch the path unfold before us, and see where it goes."

I just nod and say, "Oh. OK."

He laughs, and holds out his hand to me, "Come along now, my Kaitlyn, take my hand. Let me lead you, for I am the one who knows where we are going."

I hesitate and ask, "Do I have to hold your hand?"

He laughs again, "Why would you not want to take my hand? I know you're a good girl, and good girls do what they're told to do by an authority figure like me. And, you don't know where we are going. Thus, I must take the lead here- it is the only responsible thing to do. This is the very first time you will have walked outside of this room. You don't want to get lost. Imagine how many odd and dangerous people must be out there- some of them perhaps even more odd and more dangerous than myself! You'd surely be safest staying as close to me as possible." His tone is playful, not threatening.

I can't help but be a little flippant back, "Oh, Sebastian. I'm sure it can't be that dangerous to go to breakfast and then walk through a garden! But I understand, you want to be my brave protector! And so, yes, I will do as you say."

His eyes now shine brilliantly at me, as he leans a bit closer and speaks with heartfelt seriousness, "I want to be more than your protector. I have declared my love, and I want to be your official suitor. Yes, I do want that all this soon. I don't care if it is unusual. I don't care about anything but you. You have captivated me as I had scarcely dreamt possible. Even knowing what I know, it amazes me. But the absolute truth is, I am in love with you. Madly, insanely in love."

Any other man acting like this I'd be telling myself to run away from, immediately. Am I only avoiding telling myself this because I feel I can't run anywhere? Or because of some weird thing the Vorlons did to me? Or am I feeling more than I'd thought I was? Maybe this is what _"in love" _feels like. Or, maybe this is what Vorlons having messed with your brains feels like. How the Hell would I know the difference? I am starting to like the feeling, though.

To think I am "in love" right now? After a DAY? With Sebastian? It's crazy! But- no crazier than Sebastian himself is. He of course is crazy, because he IS the Ripper- but he said he is in love with me... and I definitely believe him. Whatever his form of love is, he feels it deeply.

I was never much of a hand-holder- yet I'm liking that, too. And, as we pass by real live aliens, I must say, holding onto him does help me feel much more secure.

This is not like going for a walk down a city street on Earth. At least, not in the good old days!

It is NOT like a sci-fi convention, either! Trust me! It is very apparent that these are not costumed humans! It is not only looks- they sound- and sometimes smell- different, too. Centauri, Minbari, Narns... and... what the fuck is THAT? I've never seen one of those on the show! It's scarier than the funny tentacle on head creatures I'd also never seen. I grant that was only on a vidscreen, and this is real, but I definitely move closer to Sebastian! And oh, I would say HE is pleased. "Ah, what did I tell you, Kaitlyn? Things even more odd than I am!" he says, with a quite sexily fiendish laugh. If I weren't feeling half freaked-out by my surroundings, I'd probably try to say something flirtatious back to him. I stay quiet, though.

I have to admit I wasn't prepared for what I would see and hear. There's absolute cacophony of voices, strange tonalities, resonances, frequencies...

The crowds only get thicker as we reach the Zocalo. I don't like this many people around me, ever. I really don't. And when so many of them are not even human, yes, this is making me very anxious. I must have started to shake or something, for he asks me if I am all right. I manage to say, "Not really." He looks around, then says, "About ten more feet, then we'll duck behind that kiosk so you can... regroup."

Off the path, at least beings are no longer passing by on both sides. All the sounds... and smells... are still overwhelming, but slightly less so. I realize how fast I'd been breathing, as I gradually slow back toward normal. He looks at me with great concern. "Perhaps we should have worked up to it? Just stood in the hallway for a bit first? I'm sorry, I should have let you know exactly how crowded it is here. I- I don't even like so many people around... you certainly would like it less! So sorry." I am not feeling so good yet, and tell him, "I think I need to sit down." He points to a few cafe style tables, perhaps 25 feet away, and asks, "Think you can make it that far yet?" I nod, and we head over there and sit. He asks, "How large of a city have you ever been to?" I sigh, "None big enough for the streets to be this crowded. Was London like this?" He shrugs, "Mostly not, but in some parts, at some times of day, yes. One of the reasons I liked going out very late at night, well before I ever... oh... committed a crime, was quite simply that fewer people were around." I tell him, "I'd try to walk around in the middle of the night sometimes, by myself. People didn't want me to do that for some reason!" He almost laughs, "Oh, I can't imagine why, of course. Well, you did live, apparently." I nod, "Apparently."

And, now we look at each other quietly for a minute or so.

Then he says, "Tell me when you feel ready to get up. The donut shop is right over there-" he points to it. It's fairly close by. He adds, "-and there is a utility corridor almost directly behind it. Which I know how to get into. And it leads, among many places, right into the back part of the Gardens. So, once we get the donuts, we can be out of the crowd almost immediately, and continue that way to our destination. And we can return through the corridor, too, if you prefer." I say, "Sounds good. I'm ready. Let's get donuts."

And, soon we are sneaking through a surprisingly well-lit worker access corridor, with donuts and tea. There is an odd sort of romance to this. It feels transgressive, walking through someplace we are not supposed to be. We don't meet up with anyone on our way, which is good, I'm sure, for more than just the reason that I feel more at ease.

I ask, "How do you know this sort of... alternate route... when you've only been on the station a couple days?" He smiles, "Oh, I know how to sneak around and get into all sorts of places with little effort. _I'm like a tall, well-dressed cat_." then he pauses a moment, and says, "Truthfully- although I do have an _almost supernatural sense of direction_, which did come in handy in escaping quickly after the murders- Kosh planted a quite thorough map of the station in my mind earlier this morning. **Now **I could find things I'm sure **no one **would want me to find! Luckily, I have no interest in selling secrets, or extortion, or whatever spies and adventurers do these days. The information is all safe in here, inside my head. I can't be read by telepaths. Or have my mind controlled by them. You probably can't either. It's a standard precaution taken with Inquisitors, you see." I point out, "I'm not an Inquisitor, and certainly have no desire to be one. Why would they take that 'precaution' with me?" He stops, looks at me, says, "You know things they don't want known by everyone. Or, by much of anyone at all, for that matter." then continues walking. I'm thinking, wondering what he means, since I know he definitely thinks the idea of this being a TV show is laughable. And most anything that could be dangerous for me to know would come from watching the show. I think. He could, I suppose, mean that I have learned, or will learn, such things from him. I don't get a chance to ask, though, before he tells me the door we now approach is the one we must exit.

We walk out into a very lovely scene. Trees, flowers- even birds and butterflies. "Oh, it's so _**beautiful**_!" I say, my enthusiasm making up for lack of originality. He sighs, as we sit down on a bench, "Yes, it is. I think I'd still prefer the real thing back on Earth, but I doubt we'll ever set foot on our home planet again." I'm sure I look shocked, as I ask, "Not ever? Really?" He sips some tea, grabs a donut, and says, "Most likely not. We don't exist there, and it's no longer a good place to be someone who doesn't exist." I think a second, and ask, "Where is a good place to not exist?" He sighs again, "I don't know. Here, I suppose. But surely we are not meant to stay on the station forever. I wouldn't want to, anyway." I haven't even managed to take a bite yet, and I'm already feeling distressed, in spite of my surroundings. I look ahead of me, at the flowers, instead of at him, "Sebastian, do you think something bad will happen to us?" With a slight chuckle, he says, "Something bad happens to everyone. So does something good. And something in-between. Although of course, I know that is not what you meant. You meant in the long term- but I don't know what will happen to us, ultimately. And I have finished one donut already, while you have not touched a thing. So, I say the thing for you to do right now, is simply appreciate where we are, and eat your breakfast." This time I sigh, and say, "Oh, OK then. I'll eat." I take a bite. A good thing, too. This is a really, really good cruller. "Mmmm, you were right. This chocolate cruller tastes _much _better than despair." He nods, and laughs, "Well, it _ought _to! That's what sweets are for, aren't they?"

We finish eating, and decide to explore a bit. I was not prepared for the size and variety of the gardens here on the station! Not only are there plants from all parts of Earth, but from probably dozens of planets. Plants as varied and unusual as the sentients I've now seen. Everything is a wonder. So much to take in. No way I could process it all at one go.

From time to time, I turn to Sebastian, simply to look at something familiar, hoping my mind won't overload with new sensations. At this point, his face is the most familiar thing to me on this station! It's a good thing I like looking at it, then, isn't it? And I do. I do like looking at him. And he clearly likes looking at me. He's doing that a lot, too. Also smiling. He's smiling very frequently. This is a man you'd much rather have smile at you than scowl at you.

We now sit on a bench in front of at least a dozen rows of multi-colored flowers, arranged by height, with some just a few inches high in front, leading back to some taller than sunflowers.

After a few more silent minutes, he blurts out, "Do you want to know something? Martha Tabram _was _in fact my first victim. It didn't match my Modus Operandi for a number of reasons- one being that, I was not the only person involved. Two, I had no chosen method of dispatch, for I hadn't yet seriously considered murder. The main reason, though, being that my 'accomplice' and I were _completely _freaked out on **Magic Mushrooms**!"

I am stunned at the outburst of revelation, to be sure. "So you- and, whoever else- committed the crime after eating some hallucinogenic mushrooms?"

He sighs excitably, "Yes. YES! Oh, see, I walked into the kitchen that afternoon, and the cook asked me, 'Sir, a Reverend Dodgson brought by a small basket of mushrooms. Should I put them in tonight's soup?' So, I asked her, 'Who did you say brought these? A Reverend someone?' and she told me, 'He said he was a Reverend Dodgson. Stuttered it a bit, too. Do-do-Dodgson.' And, oh, on hearing that, I knew EXACTLY what sort of mushrooms they likely were, for we'd discussed this last time we'd met! I immediately, **emphatically**, said, 'No, no! Heavens no! **Never **in a soup, oh, NO! Not THOSE mushrooms! They were brought by for... study.! _**For science**_!' Quickly as could be done, I appropriated the mushrooms before they made it into any recipes there in that kitchen! That, right there, was the last wise thing I did that day! Why, do you know what I did almost immediately?"

I shrug, "Of course I don't know!"

He laughs, and continues, "Right! Of course you don't! Well! Foolishly, I rushed off and told a friend residing in the hall, who had interest in such fungi, what was left there for us, and he decided that the two of us should experiment that night. I said I'd wait until my wife had gone to bed, and we'd go out around back to try them in secret. Well. They were far more... intense than I'd presumed they would be. They had the same strong effect on my dear artist friend. Perhaps worse. Soon enough after consuming two mushrooms each, we heard grunting noises out in the street behind us. In our altered state of consciousness, we were of course convinced it was demons. I wandered back into the building, grabbed a very sturdy butcher's knife, and said I was going to vanquish those demons. He ran along behind me, and let out a shriek when we met up with not two, but four demons, copulating in the street! At that, and the sight of me waving a knife and shouting something about How dare beasts from Hell fuck in MY streets, they scattered and ran. Tabram, though, she was a very rotund woman... she didn't get away. She ran quite well, considering, but, not well enough. She made it up to a first-floor landing in the neighboring building, and stopped, unable to go any farther. I grabbed her from behind, 'round the neck. She tried to draw a penknife from her pocket, but dropped it. then I felt her go fully limp and unconscious, and let her body down slowly. My friend picked up that little knife and began stabbing frantically! 'We have to kill it before it wakes!' he said. I laughed at him, "You won't kill it with that tiny blade!' I shoved him aside, and said, 'I will finish it. Watch.' I raised up that thick, dagger-like blade, and gave it one big plunge through the sternum. You could hear the bones crack! She was dead now. Now my poor friend was getting afraid of me, too. I had the knife in one hand, and with the other, I began pulling up the skirts. 'No undergarments! You whore!' I said. my companion asked, with some degree of horror- 'What- what are you doing?' and I laughed more, and said, 'Letting them know this demon fiend was a WHORE!' Then I started to cut into her abdomen, and this time, HE pushed ME away- from an already DEAD body. And do you know what he asked me? What he had the gall to ask me, after HE'D done most of the stabbing?"

I am feeling afraid myself now, and don't think I want to know any more. I say, with some distress, "Please, please, Sebastian! That's enough! Please stop telling me this story! PLEASE!"

He seems to come back down from wherever he'd gone, and says, "Oh. I'm... sorry. I shouldn't have gone so far into that sordid tale with a lady like you. My goodness!"

I do ask, though, "How was nothing heard? Or maybe the question is- **was** nothing heard? Or was it simply heard and **ignored**, given the neighborhood?"

He says, "Oh, George Yard, aside from being populated with lower-class folks, was next to a place packed with college-age gents. I guarantee the inhabitants had seen and heard men in activities with loose women before. And she didn't get a chance to scream, so there would've been no indication it was anything other than the usual."

I sigh, "I guess the good thing, if there is a good thing, is that you didn't really know what you had done. You did know, but you thought you'd done it to a demon, not an innocent woman."

He gives a slight snort-laugh, "Innocent woman? Innocent? My dear, YOU may be innocent, but I assure you, she was nothing of the sort. But still, the next day, when I knew what had happened- I was at first devastated at the realization, though not enough to confess! After all, how could I be certain that what I'd _thought _happened truly hadn't? Perhaps this woman had coincidentally been stabbed there after I vanquished the demon. Right? AND coincidentally ALSO left there with her legs spread and skirts raised above her waist? Ridiculous, I know, but it's the type of thing you try to tell yourself. I had more to worry about than just myself, anyway. And now, the uproar this violent death caused convinced me of the efficacy of murder as a consciousness-raising tool."

I decide to ignore the whole efficacy of murder thing (and how casually he threw out the bit about the victim's positioning and state of her clothing) and ask, "The mushrooms were brought by a Reverend Dodgson? That name sounds very familiar."

Sebastian nods, "He was Lewis Carroll."

"Ah. Of course! Alice's Adventures in Wonderland."

"You must truly feel like Alice in Wonderland, around here," he says to me, "with so many strange creatures, in such odd surroundings."

He's certainly made a quick transition from casually admitting he killed Tabram, to speaking of a fairy tale!

Then he begins to recite a scene from the book, " 'But I don't want to go among mad people, ' said Alice. 'Oh, you can't help that,' said the cat. 'We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.' "

He stops purposefully, and looks at me.

I put in then, "How do you know I'm mad?"

And he finishes, " 'You must be,' said the cat, 'or you wouldn't have come.' "

And his smile is as wide as the Cheshire cat's could ever be.

I point out, "I didn't come. I was brought here."

He replies, "Oh, same here, as you know. But it's a minor technicality, if you ask me. I think we are both here because we are both quite insane."

I say, "This is a space station, not an asylum."

He says, "What I mean, is that this is why YOU specifically, are anywhere _at all _with ME specifically. To share our mutual madness. We can pretend we are happy with sane people, but we are not. You don't need, or even _**want **_me to pretend to sanity. This is the greatest gift anyone has ever given me."

I am quite pleased to hear this, even if it _**is**_ saying I'm insane too. "Thank you. That's a beautiful thing to say."

He is beyond pleased, "Oh, you see, everyone else wants to change me! Everyone! But not you. Not you."

Now, we are yet again quiet, this time for a very good while. We look at each other, look at the flowers, look at each other again.

He soon has his arm around me, and I lean my head on his shoulder, but at an angle where I can look up into his eyes. We continue to sit like this, until we hear footsteps and look toward them. He keeps his arm around me, both affectionate and protective. However, we soon see there is no danger.

Commander Susan Ivanova steps around the side of a tall square hedge, and notices us. She seems to be trying to figure out whether she's interrupted something or not. Perhaps because Sebastian immediately looked back to me as soon as he saw there was no threat.

"Oh, um. Hi. Didn't realize anyone was over here. You're so quiet. You- you're that Inquisitor guy, right?" She seems a bit annoyed to be ignored by him, but Sebastian continues to look only at me, as he says, "Yes. I am, or was, the Inquisitor. And of course I am quiet. It is appropriate to be so, when one is captivated by natural beauty."

I think to myself, -Quiet? She should have gotten here about ten minutes ago!-

Ivanova asks, "And... who is this... um, beauty you are so captivated by?"

Sebastian realizes she isn't leaving, so he glances over, then introduces me, "This lovely young lady is Miss Kaitlyn Shrimpling. And you, I believe are Commander Susan Ivanova, correct?"

Ivanova nods, "Yes. I am. Exactly how much do you know about the command staff?"

Sebastian smiles, "Oh, enough. Mostly just your names, and what you look like, though. I needed to know some basic things about the people I was most likely to come into contact with. So, it is also the same with the high-ranking members of Security, and the Maintenance Department."

Ivanova almost laughs, "Maintenance?"

Sebastian shakes his head admonishingly, "Why does that sound so odd? Why would they be so unimportant? It was in case I'd have to sneak off for some reason, if you fine folks had not followed instructions properly, for example. But you did. And all went... well enough... as well as those things ever go, let's just say."

Now we all feel a bit uneasy, I believe, from the way the two of them look. They both say, "Hmmm, well-" and then Sebastian politely defers, "Go on please, Commander."

Ivanova looks at me and says, "Well, I want to know a bit about you, Kaitlyn. So, you must be from the same time period as Mr. Sebastian?"

It is Sebastian who says, abruptly, "Yes, she is." before I have a chance to say anything.

Ivanova looks a bit perturbed. I know she must be thinking Sebastian is a terribly old-fashioned sexist pig. And she probably wants to hit him.

She says, "Well, _Kaitlyn_, where on Earth are you from? Did you also come from England?" And she really stresses my name, to make a point!

Sebastian either realizes Ivanova is telling him subtly what a dick he just was, or he wants me to answer this time, for he doesn't say anything.

"Uh," I start, "Well, you can probably tell I didn't, now that I'm speaking?" Oh great. I sound all nervous and use questioning tone in my answer. I sound weak.

Sebastian starts in, "Well, Kaitlyn, that's not an answer! Now, see, Commander, she's actually from-"

Ivanova stops him, "I'm sure she was getting to it. She's a little nervous. But it's OK, Kaitlyn, I'm nothing to be nervous about, unless you're one of the bad guys." She gives a pointed look at Sebastian on those last few words. He stays very, very silent.

I make a nervous laugh sound, and say, "Um, what I meant to say is, I'm American- from an Ohio town you've probably never heard of."

Ivanova brightens, "Oh, I used to know a guy from Ohio, actually. Anywhere near Cincinnatti?"

I shake my head, "No, no. Opposite end, up relatively near to Cleveland."

Sebastian looks restless, and asks, "Commander? Would it be any trouble for you to stay here with Kaitlyn while I go somewhere for a few minutes?"

Ivanova looks amused, "Not at all. I was here on break anyway. But I do of course want to ask why."

He shrugs, "Oh, I'm just going for ice cream. I saw an ice cream parlor I hadn't noticed before, and I very much fancy some at the moment. And, well, Kaitlyn, I presumed you wouldn't want to get any, as it seemed a struggle for you to finish your second donut. I didn't want you to feel pressured to also have ice cream on top of that- but with the fortuitous appearance of the Commander here, well, my dear, would you mind terribly if I go get some?"

I opine that I would not mind, "I feel confident that Commander Ivanova can both protect me, and provide delightful conversation, while you go get your little treat."

Ivanova smiles, "Well, thank you Kaitlyn. I think you will be delightful, also. So, yes. Go have ice cream, Mr. Sebastian."

He does not hesitate at all before he heads off. Ivanova starts to laugh.

I say to her, "I don't know what that was about. He's behaving... well, more oddly than yesterday." She looks at me and asks, "So, you were leaning on the guy and didn't smell the marijuana smoke on him? I don't really smell much on you, but he definitely smelled of it. And I don't know if you are aware, but-" I nod, "It makes you want to eat. And he didn't get real food often with the Vorlons. I also hadn't, but I was completely unaware I hadn't." Now I'm sniffing both of my sleeves, and realize my left arm does have more than a trace of pot smell on it. "How didn't I notice that?" I ask myself out loud.

Ivanova says, "You know, he didn't ask if I wanted any ice cream, now, did he?" I ask, "Did you want any?" She replies, "I didn't until I knew someone else was having it! Oh, anyway, who cares? I can go get myself some in a little bit here, can't I? What I should do, is ask you how you are enjoying the 23rd century so far." My smile fades a bit as I reply, "Well, it's... interesting." She teases gently, "Uh oh. That doesn't sound like unequivocal praise." I laugh, "Oh, it's just so much different. I haven't lived in it long enough to know if I truly like it or not. I- I like Sebastian, but he's not from this century, of course. He's just stuck in it with me."

Ivanova says, "It's good to hear that you like him. So, he's treated you well so far?"

I try to be positive without over-enthusing: "He makes it clear he truly _wants _to please me. He definitely _wants _to be a gentleman, though he clearly has his quirks. There have been moments, yes, where he could've been nicer, but after having had to do that whole Inquisitor thing, I'd be a bit suspicious if he were on perfect behavior. Does that make sense?"

She nods, "Yes, it does make sense. You never trust anyone who is TOO nice. I just wanted to know he hasn't... tried to... hurt you. Not that I, um, expected him to. Just- just a precaution. Really."

I reassure her again, "He's been very good to me, overall. His concern for my well-being is apparent to me."

She tells me, "The Captain told me some things about you, though obviously not much, since he hasn't met you. Mostly, I suppose it's what Sebastian had told **him**. First, that you are **here**, of course; and like Sebastian, you were preserved by Vorlons. Then he told me one more thing- and I don't want to be tactless about how I say or ask this- but, is it true that Sebastian is, um, in courtship with you or whatever you call it?"

I shrug, "This is very clearly what he is doing. I wouldn't have been cuddling up with him otherwise, you know. All I can say is, I don't know what he's truly _**supposed **_to be doing here on the station with me. I somehow doubt that getting, um, involved with me can be the actual purpose! It is perhaps something we are meant to do, but there has to be _**more **_to it, wouldn't you think?"

She nods and laughs, "Yes, I would think there's more to it! _I never pictured the Vorlon Empire as a dating service_!"

I shrug, "Exactly. And yet courting me is so clearly the main object for him, **I don't think he's got anything else on his mind at all**!"

She asks, "Is this agreeable to you? I don't mean the single-mindedness of it, but the idea of the relationship itself?"

I say, "Yes, I said I _like _him, but it is definitely more than that. His attentions to me are more thanwelcome. He's extremely intelligent, he's witty, and also reasonably handsome for an older gentleman. Oh- oh, look now, I see him coming. Shhh...I don't want him to know-"

She laughs again,"I'm sure he'd expect we were talking about him. He **is** a man, after all! They assume all conversations between women are about them. But hey, I can say stuff like, 'Oh, gosh, is your collar made of chantilly lace? How fabulous!' once he gets closer, if you'd prefer."

Now we are both giggling, as Sebastian comes wandering back with a few paper sacks- one from a candy store- that one quite full. Another one is from the Cheesy Spoo stand, and I can't tell much of the other two, which have logos in unfamiliar alphabets... one might be Minbari. Obviously I know how to find out, though!

I ask him, "Hey, Sebastian, darling, what languages are on those bags?"

He beams when I call him "darling", and replies, "Oh, Kaitlyn, my **dearest**! Hee hee! Let's see- uh, Minbari, and... goodness, I already forgot what else I have!"

Ivanova stifles a laugh as he examines the fourth bag to remember what he bought. He certainly is stoned. I smell the aroma very strongly now, realize he must have toked up even more, and mouth in Ivanova's direction, "OH my GOD! He's had MORE!" She whispers to me, "The ice cream parlor guy smokes it too. It's an open secret, since all the food vendors benefit. He offers it to people, if he decides he likes them. Guess they hit it off well."

I'd say Sebastian has also had some other drug too. I don't know enough to hazard a guess at what, as he smiles and informs me, "Ah, these are for you, Kaitlyn- they are liquer-containing candies from Centauri Prime. If you have trouble sleeping tonight, a few of these should put you right out. Like a light. Ha ha!"

I casually mention, "Oh, I don't remember telling you I had trouble sleeping last night." He looks to be in deep contemplation for a moment, then smiles again, "Well, I suppose I did hear you fretting about. I did not sleep well myself. I often do not, when I have recently awakened from stasis. I'd expect it to be similar for you. It's nothing to be too worried about, but I may as well worry a tiny bit, about such a sweet, angelically beautiful girl as you, my little princess... kitten... Oh, hee hee! Ha! Oh my!"

I notice Ivanova roll her eyes at both how blatantly high he is, and the sappy way he is addressing me, but I try not to be embarrassed.

She clears her throat meaningfully, and says, "I should get going now. I have a lot of work to do. But it was nice meeting the two of you."

I beam, "OH, it was wonderful to meet you, Commander Ivanova!"

She smiles back, "Thank you. And you may actually call me Susan." then she looks at Sebastian and says, "SHE may call me Susan. Not you."

He nods, "Oh, Miss Commander, that is **most **well understood! And not a problem. Believe it or not, I can **respect **a female of rank! Queen Victoria gave our era its name, after all! Yes she did!"

As she muses it a moment, I can tell Ivanova didn't like his sarcastic tone, but still agrees, "True. **Like me, she was not someone to be messed with.**"

Then she turns and says to me, "Well, Kaitlyn, if you **need **to talk to another **woman **about **anything**, feel free to call me. If I am available, I will answer. OK?"

I look back and forth from her to Sebastian, and can tell neither one looks pleased with the other, though Sebastian is smiling.

I reply, "Um, yes, I- I will, Co- uh, I mean Susan."

She nods, "Good. I am fully serious. **If you need me, and I'm there, I'll answer**."

She glares suspiciously at him as she walks away.

And I'm thinking, for her to just say that I- a person she has just met- can feel free to call her- a member of the command staff- she truly must not trust Sebastian with me.

After a few mostly quiet minutes, punctuated now and then with a random laugh, I say, "I know what is missing from the station."

Sebastian laughs, of course, "Missing? What?"

I proudly announce, "The Christopher Franke soundtrack!"

He laughs again, "The who... WHAT now?"

I inform him, "Christopher Franke was a composer. Of electronic music, for TV and films."

He loudly giggles now, "Congratulations, dear Kaitlyn! You have found something I have not heard of. Now, let us wait a moment... listen... look around... Hmmm. I think we are still here. Sorry. You didn't magically go back home! NOW, let me _guess_- you will claim this man wrote the soundtrack to the **television series Babylon 5**!"

I'm more indignant than I ought to be, "**Yes! I would**! **Because HE DID**! Or so I thought! Well, tell me- if he didn't- **where did I get the name**?"

Sebastian is still amused, "I don't know. The name is not uncommon, let alone _exotic_, so it could be from anywhere. You could even have combined the first names of two _handsome_, strapping young men you met at a college party!"

I don't want to dignify that remark, so I just huffily say, "Well, 'Franke' has an 'e' on the end! AND- I did **not **attend as many parties as **most **students did!"

He laughs heartily, "Oh! Congratulations again! On **boring **all your friends to **death**, I imagine!"

I shake my head, "Never you mind that! Just tell me where I'd know the MUSIC from, then?"

He shrugs, "I can't say, if I don't know the music you refer to. Can you sing or hum any of it?"

I exhale sharply, and think, "Um, the main theme music isn't a song, it's instrumental, and electronic- and also there's a narration, a different one each season- but I'll try to hum it... oh my... it's like...'Hmmm huuuuum hmmm huuuuum, Hmm Hmm, HUM Huum! Hmmm huuuum hmmm huuuum, HUUM, Hum, HUM HUM! Then these doodle-oo dee dee little sounds like... uh, stuff, whatever. Eh."

He is nodding emphatically, and tells me, with a laugh, "It sounds remarkably like the Vorlon Homeworld Planetary Anthem. That is where you got the music. You definitely heard it, albeit while unconscious."

I give him a little side-eye, "Oh, now, don't joke with me! A Vorlon anthem? Really?"

He throws up his hands, "I know I'm laughing, but I've no reason to joke about it! And why wouldn't they have an anthem? I can settle it right now, though. Go to that vidscreen, and press 'music'."

The unit says, "State song artist or genre, please."

Sebastian calls out, "Vorlon Homeworld Planetary Anthem, please!"

The unit says, "Thank you." and then begins playing a _very very familiar tune..._

Astonished, open-mouthed, I shout, "WELL, I'LL BE! **IT IS THE VERY SAME TUNE! **_**THE EXACT SAME**_!"

There are slight variations in the arrangement, and the instrumentation sounds different, but it is unmistakable.

At this, I say, "My my my- maybe my brains really were scrambled more than I thought!"

He nods concernedly, "I think so, my poor dear. You were out an extraordinarily long time." Then he laughs... and at my very annoyed expression, he cries out "**I'm sorry, dear! **I just, wow that ice cream man had **SOME STRONG SHIT! **Whoa!"

I give him a stern look, "What else did you take? I know what marijuana does. You had something else too."

Now he laughs very, very nervously, "Only cocaine, I swear, and it should be about worn off by now."

I sigh, "Of course."

Only cocaine... welcome to the Victorian era...


	6. Understanding, Obedience, & Babylon Park

"What have we learned?

The world is never as mad as it could be.

Never as mad as it could be."

SJ Tucker- Cheshire Kitten

* * *

***Sebastian***

It should be almost impossible for me to foul up my pursuit of Kaitlyn in any significant way. I know the proper way to interact with a lady, and I know that Kaitlyn is a lady.

And yet...

Here we are, sitting by a garden, me as high as a kite, and Kaitlyn very upset with me, as well she should be. I am behaving as stupidly as a youth of 20, or perhaps even 16.

I think I'd better try to apologize to her again, and attempt not to laugh while doing so.

"Kaitlyn, please. I am sincerely sorry if I have embarrassed you. Oh, what Commander Ivanova must have thought!"

She twists her mouth in a very unamused way, "What she must have thought, indeed! Surely you did not frequently go about the streets of Whitechapel in this state!"

I shake my head, "Going about the streets? Not typically, that is to be sure. Now, yes, I'd be like this- but I'd try to stay home. But you **know **I must have been in worse states than this, during my little... activities... my dear. And, even in the months _before _the murders, I came close to this rather often. OH! I admit I would self-medicate for my nervous problems. And those problems were frequent. I- I Ha ha. Oh. It isn't funny, and I know it isn't, but..."

She does an annoyed but resigned toss of her head, and says, "I know you know it isn't funny. You're going to act weird for a while yet, until you come down a bit. I know."

I sigh, "Yes. Oh. My. Well. The thing is... there had always been quite a few people around who cared what I did, and though I could hide some things from some of them, I knew I had to give the appearance of living up to quite high standards- whether I did or not. And, oh, yes- I usually DID live up to them. Of course when I DIDN'T, **OH, I REALLY DIDN'T! **Oh, oh, oh. Ha, of course, **killing is not living up to much of anyone's moral standard, is it**? Oh, no no no. Ha ha. No. Hmmm. It certainly isn't. Not even close, and yet, well, I did that, didn't I? **I certainly did! **So, what is acting a fool here on this station, really? Compared to murder? NOTHING! And yet, I will try. For you, I will try."

"Good. You do that. Try." Is all she says in response.

She gets up and moves toward the brilliant floral display. She starts absentmindedly sniffing flowers.

And I sit here and watch her.

I know she's just looking for something to do for a few minutes without having to talk to me.

I understand why, but it's natural that I don't like it. I'm upset with myself for behaving in a way that caused her to not want to talk to me... I just need to make sure I don't turn that into being upset with _her_, instead.

I go to the vidscreen I directed her to just a bit ago. Some music might help- if I pick the proper music, that is.

I can't help but chuckle at the idea of this "Babylon 5 Theme Music" turning out to be the Vorlon anthem!

It is just so perfectly... perfect.

The look on poor Kaitlyn's face was priceless.

I hope she can get over this "20th Century" thing soon. I don't know what her problem is; what would motivate her to insist she came from 1999 instead of 1888...

How is one of those years any better than the other? Not at all, I'm sure.

Stranger yet, that she believes a television show back in that time was based on this space station!

Oh well. She can have her odd little fancies for now, I suppose.

Where was I? Oh, I am standing in front of the vidscreen!

Music.

I wanted to play music.

I like music.

If it's good.

Not if it's bad.

I don't like music that I don't like!

Of course.

Oh, that's funny. I laugh again.

I glance over to Kaitlyn. She looks so lovely by the flowers, even with her back to me.

I remember something the Vorlons played for me, to calm me after a session with a very psychotic Centauri...

I say, "Albert Ketelbey- In a Monastery Garden".

It's a good thing **this **isn't a monastery.

I do prefer a garden with Kaitlyn in it, even if she is currently trying to ignore me.

Ah, this music is very nice and relaxing- and it's the version with the little birdie sounds in it! Yes, I love those little birds.

There are some real birds here. And butterflies.

I lean back and look up, wishing the sky were there. You can project a _picture _of the sky from your home planet, or others, up there, but I didn't bother. It wouldn't be real.

Ah, there's the soft chorus coming in for a moment...

I've closed my eyes, but I feel Kaitlyn sit back down beside me again. She apparently wasn't really all that angry. Probably just irritated, annoyed.

"I really like the music." she says. "It's so beautiful."

I look at her now, wanting to say something much more clever than, "Not as beautiful as you," but I am at a momentary loss, and this is indeed what I say.

She smiles at me, and very modestly says, "I know."

This time, we both laugh, together.

Now that is more like it.

Unfortunately, the piece is too short. About 6 minutes... When it is over, Kaitlyn asks, "So, does this machine have all the same music as the ones in the rooms?"

"I presume so. It's all the same system."

"Hmm. Which means, almost all the music that ever existed, apparently."

"It seems so."

She gives me an appraising look, "So, Sebastian, do I like Debussy's opera Pelleas et Melisande because the Vorlons let YOU listen to it? It debuted in 1902! That's after 1888, isn't it?"

I affirm this, "Yes, I'm sure that is why. That is one thing they are good about- playing music that relaxes or helps me in some way. Would you like to listen to part of it, now?"

She laughs lightly, "I assume it'd be only _part_. It IS an opera! I don't want to sit here THAT long!"

I laugh a bit louder than her, "Yes! Of course! Well, do you wish to start it?"

She starts the opera playing. She tells me there were several versions, so she just chose the earliest complete one.

Now, she says to me, "Commander Ivanova looked exactly like she does on the show."

I exhale disapprovingly, "You need to stop that foolishness about a Babylon 5 television show! It did not exist! It is one thing to speak of it to me- but you need to watch who you say these things to. I am sure if you recognize faces of people here, it will ALSO be from transmissions you received! I told you how we are connected! And let me tell you something else! Your cryostasis unit was very close to mine! I know that, because **I felt your presence every time I walked by it**!"

She looks surprised, "You knew where I was?"

I bite my lip, nervously, before responding, "Yes. I did not know you were 'you', per se. I certainly didn't know your name or where you were from- but I could **feel you so strongly**, I _almost _had your picture in my mind. Almost. You are still more beautiful than I had dreamed of, but I was fairly accurate, really."

And now she looks confused, "You said 'dreamed of' Do you mean you saw me in dreams? Or in your mind when you were awake?"

With a sigh, I say, "Both. It's complicated. It is. Difficult for me to... formulate in my... current state. Hmmm. Formulate, current state, I made a rhyme there, didn't I?"

She rolls her eyes, but in an amused way, "Yes, you did. OK. You are still feeling... out there... point taken."

I lean back a bit, and say, "Yes. Out there. So, if we talk about anything now, let it be the music. Of course, you will probably also say you know Pelleas and Melisande was originally a play by Maurice Maeterlinck, which makes it a Symbolist play set to Impressionist music."

She affirms, "Yes, I do know that."

I continue, "Of course, the people in this opera are not very happy. Quite a lot of misery there. Beautiful misery, but misery nonetheless. Now, you, Kaitlyn- I don't want you to be sad, even if you look and sound beautiful while being sad... Now, my darling, tell me- you didn't lose a crown in a pond, did you?"

With a shrug, she says, "If I did, you'd best not try to fish it out."

I say, still referencing lines from the opera, "Duly noted- but it would be easy to do! The water isn't very deep."

With a sad little sigh, she says, "Hmm... I still don't want it back. And... aren't I supposed to be crying? Now, what if you found me crying, but I wasn't near the water?"

I shake my head, "I'm sorry, but in this opera, you have to cry by the pond."

She tilts her head, "Unless I'm in the desert, and there's no pond."

I laugh gently, "But aren't we both in a forest?"

She muses, "Maybe the characters have escaped the opera and gone elsewhere."

I ask, "How could they do that?"

She makes a sweeping gesture with her hands, and says, "I don't know how, but they must have."

I stand up, and tell her, "Well then, let us go, and find out where they went. We'll leave this lovely music playing though, in case someone else happens by who needs it."

I offer her my hand, and she gladly takes it.

We head back toward her room now, through the quiet maintenance corridor.

* * *

***Kaitlyn***

I am glad we went through this corridor.

I hear some type of disturbance out there, in the actual hallway, as we near the Zocalo.

"Narns and/or Centauris, I presume-" says Sebastian,"they are having quite the conflict lately. To put it mildly."

When we reach the point where we must exit for the hallway to reach my room, he looks out cautiously first, and assures me all is clear.

Now, we are safely back in my room. Sebastian places his purchases on the table, then decides to dump the contents of the bag from the candy store on the surface.

"Plenty of sweets here, my sweetheart. You should have some. I am going to."

The variety certainly looks intriguing. "What are those little orange puffed things?" I ask, and he says, "They are called Orange Puffs, interestingly enough. And guess what they taste like!"

"Oh, goodness, could it be oranges?" I hazard. With an exaggerated smile, he says, "Correct! You win the prize!"

I laugh and ask, "Which is?" to which he replies, "Um, well, Orange Puffs, I suppose! Here you go!" and hands a few over to me. Mmm. They are quite delicious.

Next I pick a small chocolate bar, which I make short work of.

He eats about eight different pieces of candy, while he talks again about not having any good food with the Vorlons. And about how rude the Vorlons can be. And about how some Vorlons actually enjoy tormenting us lesser-evolved species.

I ask, "How evolved was it of them to have you torture people with that stick and pain-givers?"

"I don't know," he says, "but it is what they had me do. That is all I know."

I notice he doesn't seem to wonder how I know about those things. And why would he? Everything I know about this place is all because of him, according to his version. So, of course, I know about things he hasn't mentioned to me- even though there is **no such thing **as a TV show called Babylon 5! It's all because of some _mysterious_, mystical connection we have. And he knows it's true because the **Vorlons **tell him so! Even though they like to toy with and torment us mere humans sometimes.

Well, I decide to talk about the world I thought I knew again:

"Sebastian, what if there were a world where the Vorlons **hadn't **taken you away, and no one else ever caught you- so you got away with the murders. And not only that, but you attained higher rank within the church, and with the help of your wife and other people, you developed the settlement house at Toynbee Hall into an institution that inspired and educated not only artists, but leaders in many walks of life for Britain?"

He shrugs it off, "What if there were? I wouldn't be here with **you**, then. You **do **realize that is the biggest implication, for you, of the scenario you have just put forth."

I admit, "Yes, I do. But you'd have happily lived out your life with Henrietta."

He looks surprised at me, "Why would you want me to think of her?"

My answer is simple: "You loved her."

He looks even more surprised, "And that creates no jealousy for you?"

"Very little, if it does any at all."

"Then I admire you even more. I find myself wondering not only about serious suitors, but about men who may have briefly touched your hand or your shoulder, or inspired you to smile and laugh at their jokes. The fact that they are more than 300 years dead barely diminishes this."

"Well, for me, the '300 years dead' thing does have quite a lot to do with it, I will admit. Were she to walk in the room..."

He laughs nervously, "I'd be the most _confused _man in the Universe, I can tell you **that**! Would you make me choose? I bet I could keep you **both **in this time! Would you allow it?"

Now I'm the surprised one, "Hmmm... what a thing to ask!"

"Yes, with quite a double standard, seeing how I don't even want another man to TOUCH you, but... if you two ladies got along well enough, I wouldn't object to... OH GOD! What am I saying? Well, it is true I wouldn't object to it, though. Most especially if I were to WATCH!"

_**"SEBASTIAN!"**_

"Sorry. Very sorry. Shutting my mouth now. It's just that ladies DO sometimes get quite affectionate with one another, and you had said you'd thought her beautiful in pictures, and-"

_**"SEBASTIAN!"**_

"Yes, yes. Shutting my mouth for real, this time. I am most sorry. Truly sorry."

Good Goddess! What the fuck? Did he start to fantasize about two chicks making out from the very moment Commander Ivanova started talking to me? How the hell horny IS this guy? I suppose it's been pent-up the entire time he's been an Inquisitor. Though he'd be called middle-aged, truth is he was and is still relatively young to be forced to part with a very attractive woman he loved. He's probably a bomb just waiting to blow, so to speak.

I'm sure he's dwelled a bit on what he feels he missed due to strictures of sexuality in the Victorian age, too. Though most of reality was not nearly as repressed as popular lore would have it, he was a preacher, and everything _he _did publically _had _to appear proper.

He treaded dangerous enough ground with the purely _artistic _end of aesthetic decadence; I could scarcely imagine anyone _else _getting away with delivering art lectures in place of sermons! He got enough criticism for things like that; to venture openly into pleasures of the _flesh _would have been enough to get him tossed out of the Anglican Church, one speculates. The holier-than-thous whispered of licentiousness simply because he was not as _ascetic _as a religious man was supposed to be. Yet he could never please the other side, either. To those who were sexually adventurous, his public behavior seemed so repressed at least one man called him a eunuch.

Contradiction surrounded him everywhere. He was forced to run either hot or cold, when he needed to simply be warm. That such a sensually, artistically motivated man could not openly express the sexual side of himself was a burden, no doubt.

Whatever his denials, I know sexual frustration had to play a part in the murders. When sexual motivation came up on that documentary yesterday, and he needed to make a joke about how erotic it was to fold laundry in Miss Kelly's room, that indicates how uncomfortable he was at the very mention of it.

For some reason, even though he has shut up, I just can't let the Henrietta thing rest. "You know, if Henrietta _were _here Sebastian, I couldn't get involved with you- or at least, it would have to be discussed very thoughtfully and carefully. Not because of her though- but because of YOU! Because I care about you too much, already, to do something that could hurt you- make you lose the woman you already love. Unless- unless you _wanted _to lose her- but wanted to make sure you had me all lined up so you wouldn't be alone at all... but in such a case you'd better be telling me that, first. Not making me figure it out."

Sebastian raises a very confused, bemused eyebrow, "Am I missing something here? Henrietta is not around! She's... she's... DEAD! Long dead. I understand you are saying your love would make you want to sacrifice your own happiness for mine, and that is great and noble indeed. But it has NOTHING to do with REALITY! Dead is dead, and yes, I do know for certain she is- I asked Kosh this morning, in case YOU would worry and ask me. Now, **see **how much I think of your welfare?"

I nod, and say, "Yes. I see, you are very diligent in seeing to it."

He holds his head up high, and says, "AS well I SHOULD be, if I am to be your protector and guide! It's how a proper man and husband should be. Well, as I said, I asked Kosh, _on your behalf_, what became of Henrietta. And I'll tell you what he told me: She did not go missing like me. She is not with the Vorlons. She was remarried after a few years, to a clergyman who'd lost his wife, and she lived her full life, to an old age. So. You see. She loved me back then, and I loved her back then- But I love YOU now, and even if she WERE here, I would still love you. There'd be nothing for it- I'd just have to be married to BOTH of you. And, if one or both of you ladies didn't like _that _arrangement, I'd just say, 'Well, ha! It's too bad. I'm the man!' and oh, ho ho- then I'd- I'd- spank you both! THERE! Satisfied?" By the end of this, he is laughing quite heartily, and I'm not sure which parts he's serious about. I do know Henrietta was quite assertive, but Samuel was pretty damn persistent.

I very saucily ask, "Would Henrietta _**let **_you _**spank **_her?"

He sighs with regret, "Um, erm, not really... she didn't like to... _**play **_a lot. At least not the way I wanted it. She would when we were first married, but after a while she got all 'New Woman' about the specific things I wanted to do... so eventually I gave up asking. I ended up barely **talking **to her about sex **at all**! And even though it was more due to my interest in things she wouldn't even consider- I think she took it to mean I just didn't want sex so much any more... but I wasn't an invalid! I just needed a bit more feminine behavior from her sometimes. Oh well... that doesn't mean I loved her any less. It just means I... was a bit frustrated. Now, listen to me rattling on with her bedroom secrets! She wouldn't like this at all... I should stop- we should stop talking about her- and just talk about us."

I nod, "I can understand. So... us. What about us?"

He shrugs, "Oh, I don't know... I love you. THAT'S what about us- now, would you like to go over and see MY room?"

"Is it very much different from this one?"

"In... structure, design, layout, no. It is virtually identical. But it is a different room. It's a different space. And it has my things in it, instead of yours. Are you not curious about **what I have**?"

I don't know just what he meant with that emphasis, and give him a rather dubious look, "I suppose I'm curious about your... things. Of course, I'd thought maybe you were just trying to change the subject, and make me forget you just suggested you'd like to watch a lewd act between your late wife and myself!"

Oh, great- even that was funny- "Ha ha, well, when you put it that way it sounds **even worse**! No, I'd rather watch you with another **living **woman."

I roll my eyes, "Oh? Have anyone in mind?"

He winks, "Do _**you**_?"

I wave my hands, "No. Just forget I resurrected this topic! Let's go to your room."

"Good. I'll show you my _**stick**_." oh, his _grin_... he _knows _what he's doing!

"Um..."

"I meant the Vorlon interrogation device, of course!"

"Indeed."

"Not **use **it on you, though. I didn't mean that. Unless you're really, really curious... then I _**could**_."

His eyes narrow, while mine go wide, "Why would I **want that**?"

His grin is absolutely wicked, "Oh, I don't _know_. I myself faced an Inquisitor when the Vorlons first found me. She was a bit flummoxed when I found some of the sensations **much more pleasurable **than I was supposed to, though. **MUCH** more pleasurable! Oh, yes. She was very angry, but I couldn't _help _myself, and I... _oh yes... _I think that's when the Vorlons knew, right then and there, that I'd be even better for the job than they'd imagined."

Shit. I don't know what to say to that. I know he's saying he came during the session... oh, wait- he did say "she", didn't he? Well, now I know _why_, and know what to say!

"So, your Inquisitor was a female?"

He laughs, and says suggestively, "Oh, yes. _Definitely_. Very _well-formed_, too."

"Human?"

"Minbari. And very _curvaceous _for a Warrior, which Caste she indeed was. But, yes, she was quite easy to... um..."

I get to the point, "Fantasize about? And yet, were you not implying Henrietta wasn't submissive enough to properly arouse you?"

"Yes. But things are different with a device like Inquisitors use. And, maybe I shouldn't have mentioned this." he chuckles a bit nervously.

I assure him, "Oh, I am intrigued about all aspects of it. But I don't think I want to try pain-givers just yet. And I probably shouldn't make it sound like I _ever _want that... I should just berate you for ogling some poor innocent Minbari woman while she was trying to work!"

"Very funny. Yes. And know what else? She actually _**did **_go and tell Ulkesh I'd sexually harassed her- but, honestly, now! By then she'd amped the device's power up enough that I was no longer even mildly enjoying myself! I was writhing and flailing around on the floor, and... I can't help if the front of my trousers came undone! I didn't DO it, it just _happened_! My hands were not in a truly usable state at that moment- all clenched up- she should've been able to figure out I couldn't have done it _intentionally_- Are... are you laughing at me? Oh, ha ha, you are, you naughty girl!"

"I can't- ha ha- help it! That IS pretty funny."

"Hmm... maybe I should make you a gift of two bracelets."

"Oh, no- it's not proper to give a lady jewelry so soon!"

"Oh. Riiiight, that's the only reason you wouldn't want the gift, eh? Well, come now. _**MY **_place next."

* * *

***Sebastian***

I brought most of the candy in with me, and half of the Cheesy Spoo. I am the one who bought it, after all.

"Goodness, I made it a bit too warm in here, didn't I?" I say, removing my coat.

"Oh, perhaps. But I don't know that it is so hot I must remove any clothing." she says, as she watches me next remove my waistcoat- then blushes, and looks about for something else to pretend to notice instead.

"Oh, there's your stick. Why'd you leave it here, anyway?" she asks.

I say, "Well, I didn't bring it to your room, as I did not want to frighten you with such an intimidating device."

She asks, "Wouldn't it have been good protection on our walk?"

I laugh, "As high as I've been today, you think I should have brought along an electrical torture device?"

"Good point." she admits.

And I add, "My knife is in my coat pocket anyway. I know plenty well how to use it. In a fight. I mean."

"I know what you meant. I'm sure on those streets you used it in defense, too."

"Oh, believe me, I did. I killed a couple **men**, too- I just didn't... well... you know. And, not necessarily with a slash to the throat. I mean, a stab through the heart works well, too. If... if someone comes after you. You know, whether it's a robbery- or- if they think you're the Ripper, and try to 'apprehend' you..."

"It's OK, Sebastian. I don't expect you to have let anyone kill you. I understand that."

She breathes a heavy sigh, and then says, reluctantly, "Goodness, it is hot. I suppose I will remove my jacket after all. But nothing else. Did you honestly not plan this? Turn the heat up before you left for this purpose of getting me to take something off?"

In half-feigned shock, I say, "Who? Me? Why would I do that when I couldn't even be certain you'd come in here?"

She looks up thoughtfully, and says, "Maybe you do have a point."

I gently touch her shoulder, "Good. So, do you want to know how that thing works? I don't have to **do **anything to you... I could melt one of these candies with it. That might be fun to see, perhaps?"

She giggles a bit, "Oh, OK. Sure, show me."

I pick up and click on the device, concentrate on the little gummy creature I've selected, and... POOF! A brief flash of light, and there's a tiny blob on my table instead.

Kaitlyn is visibly impressed, all wide-eyes and open-mouthed stare. "Oh! Oh! Do another one!" she says, and I oblige, drawing applause from her this time.

I tell her, "Of course, that was a good show, but there are many more subtle effects I can achieve... even some which simply cause... slight vibrations. A very interesting sensation."

She gasps, "I told you not right now, Sebastian!"

I smile so fiendishly, I'm sure I look like I want to eat her up. "Oh, but it is true... and do you wonder how I know? If I can't use it on myself? No, not from my own interrogation- my Inquisitor was very much _trying _to hurt me! She just didn't anticipate my pleasure reaction to the more mild levels of pain. No. You see, I'd always wondered... for a long time, but none of my subjects had _**inspired **_me until Delenn... she is quite pretty. OH! It's a very good thing THAT wasn't the moment Sheridan walked in! But, it wasn't! Ah, well... so, I thought... if it **could **indeed work that way, didn't Delenn deserve a few minutes of pleasure out of that whole ordeal?"

Kaitlyn looks aghast now, "Why, you... that's just **SICK**!"

I gently squeeze on the handle of the stick, and it glows a soft, pretty green. "To let her feel good for a bit? _That _is sick? I don't know that it is. One could call it merciful instead, I think. She was fully clothed, as was I. I didn't even touch her. I simply looked at her with sympathy and pity. She was exhausted, disheveled, yet still so lovely to behold. I felt a true sadness for her. And the waves, the pulsations, they changed like this, softened, with my thoughts."

The dear girl is looking less shocked now, but still apprehensive. I say, "Just touch it quickly with your fingertip. I will not let it harm what I love."

She starts to reach out, and I almost think she will touch it, but she stops and asks, "And yet, it must have _gone back _to hurting Delenn. Or the interrogation would have ended there, in failure. But it went on, and she was the Chosen."

I solemnly nod, "Yes, it did go back to hurting her. As we know. **But it had to. **Because I had to. She and I both knew that. But now- This, here- _you and I in this room- is very different_. No interrogation. No test. Neither true grandeur, nor delusions of such. Just the two of us. No rules, either. Except the **one rule **we established yesterday."

She seems to think a moment, then says, "Oh. Yes. I remember that. The only rule is, you are in charge. Perhaps I should have objected."

With a wink, I say, "But you didn't."

I don't know why I thought I could just bring Kaitlyn in here and not want to... do things to her...

It's different than "her" place. This is "my" room. My things are here. Bringing her in here says to part of my brain that she is one of my things. The implication of that, of course, is that, belonging to me, she should obey me; do what I tell her to do.

Kosh cautioned about thorns on roses, and what did I do? I purchased red roses! Oh, of course Kosh was being metaphorical, but it is still more than a bit ironic!

It's like the Imp of the Perverse has been in my head along with the Vorlons.

But, of course, it's just another example of my reckless, careless behavior in regard to her.

Fully aware of how suggestive it will look, I gently stroke the top of the stick with my fingers, this time eliciting a near rainbow of pastels, "Just look at the pretty colors, my sweet! And hear the gentle hum. You need only lay back, and I will do the work- and I swear it will feel good."

She says, "Just... put it away. For now. Please."

With a disappointed sigh, I say, "I will, if I must." I turn the device off, and place it carefully on the table.

Poor Kaitlyn tries to relax, but...

Exasperatedly, a bit pitifully, she suddenly cries out, "My God, Sebastian! What can I do? WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

I laughingly admonish her, "You'd best watch _**that question**_, young lady! Oh, go ahead and ask it of ME- but NEVER ask it of a VORLON!"

She sniffs, sighs, pouts.

The poor girl is clearly feeling distressed at the way I am playing with her.

But something just makes me want to keep on doing it!

With a more gentle laugh this time, I tell her, "Oh, my poor dear Kaitlyn. I know this _bad _man is giving you trouble. But I suppose it is _only _because he has such **strong **feelings for you, that he forgets how to behave himself. But I **do **so much love you. I do. I don't know how long, maybe I have _**always **_loved you. What do you say to _**that**_?"

Now she laughs, too, but it's a laugh of annoyance, "Always loved me? Indeed! Isn't that a bit of a stretch? Even if we were preserved near one another in stasis for centuries, and let's say you loved me for **that **entire time, how could you possibly have loved me before the Vorlons brought me to your proximity?"

Sighing, I reply, "Well, my sweet, I do not know the answer to that. But is it so easy to doubt the possibility?"

She rolls her eyes, "Yes, it is. You were married to Henrietta!"

I look deeply into her eyes, "Yes, this is true, but I do not believe the one precludes the other. Are you saying you do?"

She turns away, slightly, "Sebastian, _must _you put me in this position?"

And I smile, slyly, "Oh, and what position is that? If you'd prefer another, I know more pleasurable ones."

Now she turns away more abruptly, and shouts, "OH! YOU!"

I laugh, throwing up my hands, "Oh, ME! Me, me me! Yes! This is true. I am me, and you are you! And what a wonder that is. Oh, please, look at me again, would you? Please look toward me again, and let me gaze upon your splendour!"

She does, surprisingly, comply, turning to face me again.

I smile at her, and approach, moving closer, to the point where I sense discomfort, and then close in merely a few inches past that- just close enough that she still stays put, instead of retreating farther from me.

And now, that she is already uncomfortable, I am about to thoroughly indulge the perversity of that aforementioned Imp: "I know that you've been seduced before, Kaitlyn."

Oh, a shocked look from her, of course, and a "How could you know that?"

Moving a few inches closer yet, a sly, turned-up corner to my wicked grin, I say, "I can tell. You play the frightened virgin, but you are not one."

And now, her look is more outrage, "So- do I have no other option than virgin or whore? I thought you believed a girl had more than one chance, and I am quite certain I _should _get more than one!"

I nod, generously, "Of course you get more than one chance. And I know you are not a whore. Were you a whore, _not only _would you have let me hold, kiss, and fondle you, you'd have _come after me _to start it off! Sexual intercourse would have been a done deal _yesterday_! Probably in the first five minutes, seeing how **you do find me attractive**! Ha!"

I ask her, "So, do tell me how many men have managed to seduce you. If you don't want to tell me, I can find out anyway. It is, believe it or not, our benefactors the Vorlons who told me you **have **a history, but that it was, thankfully, not a long one. So, you see, _THEY _know that you wanted to be oh-so-good, but you _DID _have your **youthful indiscretions**!"

She seems horrified, "How... how do they **KNOW**?"

Hmm, I do feel some pity for her right now. "Oh, my sweet, darling little one- they could easily get these things from your mind while you were asleep. And, as to why they told me..." I give the most sincerely sympathetic sigh I can, before continuing, "... my angel, I must, myself, take the blame for that. You see, I wanted to know, so I asked. And, knowing why I'd want to know, they reassured me that you were definitely not one of those unfortunates, but did tell me part of your story, lest I imagine you more innocent than you were, and... and... become angry with you for decieving me as you have."

"DECEIVING? HOW DARE YOU? **I DID NOT DECEIVE**!" she shouts loudly enough that I am the one to back up this time. Yet I advance quickly again to where I'd been, as I tell her, "Deceit may not be precisely what I mean, but you must admit your behavior is exaggeratedly chaste for one who has allowed men access in the past. Now, again, I should like to ask you, how MANY of these young men were there? One? Two? Three? Or, good Heavens, one **hopes **not four or more!"

My last bit of teasing there works. She huffs in outrage at hearing the "four or more" and quickly admits, "TWO! It was but TWO!"

And then, she realizes she's been tricked into answering, so she adds, with a smirk, "I've found **plenty **more than two men attractive, of course. Yet I did _**not **_have relations with the majority of them!"

And I smirk back, "Oh, my. How could I ever live up to YOUR exacting standards, hmmm? Who **WOULD **be good enough for you, Kaitlyn? **WHO**?"

She looks to the ceiling for a moment, "Oh, come on! You are **GOOD **enough, it's just... it's just... oh, I don't even know! I don't know!" Ah, I see. Whatever it is she does not know, she must be seeking an answer up there.

I command her to look at me again, and she does.

She seems puzzled, trying to figure out what I am doing, why I am saying these things, in exactly this too-rude way. When the truth is, I'm not even sure I myself know.

Except, that I want her so much, and... well, I suppose if something is this important to me, I just need to try and ruin it!

Or I just need to behave as though I am more insane than ever? Fuck, I do not know!

I have never, ever, ever felt this way in my life; this intensely lustful type of love! It is thoroughly intoxicating in a way that pure love or pure lust are not!

I must not make a complete mess of this.

But that wicked part of my mind is doing things that I know will make me upset her!

There is a terrible excitement to seeing someone afraid, of course. And she is getting there. Oh, how arousing her scent is!

I address her in a quietly serious tone now, "I apologize for what I _have _done, and likely _will _do, to upset you. I am asking **very little**, however, of a girl who admits both to having feelings for me, **and **havingsubmitted to the advances of not one, but **two **suitors in the past! I do **not **ask for you to behave as a wanton and immediately partake of sexual intercourse with me! I ask merely for holding and kissing you. You could at least let me **KISS **you, girl! Why won't you allow even **that**, when you **have **experience, and you **KNOW **how much I **want **you?"

Her reply: "Repeat to yourself the selfish way you've just phrased that- and then you might get near an answer!"

With a sigh, I tell her, "I am not going to repeat anything. I am tired of _talking _about wanting you. I am tired of _talking _about kissing you. **I am tired of talking, talking, talking. **I am tired of talking instead of doing! ALL you want to DO is **TALK**!"

Now she looks taken aback, and is at a loss for words, "Um... well, uh... " Then she sniffs, huffs, and sighs angrily, looking down.

I lean down so I'm looking at her in the eye, in spite of her avoidance, and say, pointedly, "I appreciate your intelligence, your humor, and the like, but _I have every right to value you physically_."

She backs up, "The right to value, to want, but **not to **_**expect**_! **That right you do not have**!"

I laugh again, "Oh. look at you, still playing the nun! Oh, 'Sister Kaitlyn', what would you do if I played the Christ for you? Then you would be my bride, would you not? You'd have to do as I say, too, since I would be your Lord."

"Why, Sebastian! How dare you say such things! You may no longer be a clergyman, but you should still have a sense of moral decency! What are you going to do next? Praise Satan?"

"Oh, now, now. We needn't go **that **far. I was mocking only your _supposedly _devout Catholicism, not Christianity itself."

"_**Supposedly **_devout? Supposedly?" She looks so indignant, the poor dear.

I laugh again, "Well, you'd never have let _any _man seduce you if you had been _truly _devout, would you?"

"You do not know what happened!" she backs up another step.

I want to seize her immediately, but I have advanced to maneuver her where she will soon be trapped. I look her up and down, not yet touching her, but clearly communicating how much I want to.

"What? Did you have a bit to drink? Lowered inhibitions?"

She tries to back up again, and her eyes widen anxiously as she realizes the only place she can go is onto the bed- or let me back her up against the wall. I know she will not go to the bed, even if there is a possibility she could escape across it. She can feel I wouldn't just **let **her escape, and I would easily win any struggle. I know I would. I'd know even if I hadn't noticed the slightly uneven gait, which she tries to cover with a sway. Even if I hadn't felt the early signs of arthritic frailty in her hands. She is stronger than Annie Chapman or Polly Nichols were; but no more than Kate Eddowes or Long Liz; and oh, Miss Kelly would've been able take her in a fight, I've no doubt whatsoever! Oh, she was so exhilerating to practice techniques with! And, of course, if Martha Tabram weren't worn out from running, she'd win a fight against little ladylike Kaitlyn, too.

In the few months during which I committed my murders, I learned to enjoy the adrenaline rush brought on by the fearful look on a potential victim's face.

As Kaitlyn realizes she is backed up to the wall, and no doubt can feel my very breath, her worried look intensifies toward fear, but I see desire there, also. I know I am smiling most fiendishly at her delicious predicament.

She softly pleads with me, "Please. Let me go." Empty words. No effort. None of the feeling that is in her blazing eyes, her slightly open mouth, her tense, but not clenched hands.

I have her all the way to the wall. I plant my arms to each side of her, so she is truly trapped. I hear her rapid breathing as clearly as my own, and I plead with her, "My sweet beauty, please, please consent to a mere kiss! I swear it will be only that, although it will be a highly passionate one. I will hold you very tightly. I- I don't want to surprise or shock you, so I'll let you know I will caress you, and also want to nibble on your neck a bit, but that- that I swear will be the extent. Please say yes."

I realize how unfair I am. She cannot get away from me right now. I soften my gaze a bit, and my voice also, "I have no wish to harm you. I do love you, but it is a more lustful type of love than ever I have felt. I _need _to feel your body against mine. I need to smell you, touch you, taste you. Now, just consent to give me that first taste of honey on your lips."

She stammers, "I- I- I'll scream?" sounding like it's a question. Clearly her heart isn't in it. She wants this. She wants me.

I keep my voice quiet and calm, "Kaitlyn, darling- if you scream, if you cry out- do you think anyone will come rushing in to save you from me? Security is quite busy keeping the Narns and Centauri calm. They are engaged in a much larger power struggle than we are, my love."

She acknowledges, "That is true."

I continue, "And I do recall we shouted at each other quite loudly yesterday. None took notice. So, you may scream if it will make you feel better, but you know it will not save you. You are at MY mercy alone- and- I know if you listen to your desires, you will find you very much enjoy this prospect. THIS is what you WANT me to do."

A teardrop escapes her eye, as she admits, "Yes, Sebastian, that is true. I am afraid, but also... aroused. No other man would make me feel this, though. Believe me, they would not. It is **only you **I want to... **take charge **like this! **I do not understand! **I do not **understand **it in the **least**, but it is **true**."

Now _those _words held passion! I gently brush my lips against her cheek, as I whisper in her ear, _"Understanding is not required- only obedience."_

She sighs with surrender, "Order, obedience...those are Vorlon themes, but... isn't that more of a Minbari quote? Grey Council or something?"

I lick at her ear this time, as I whisper, "Quite so, but the Minbari definitely obey the Vorlons. As you should do for me." then I lean my head back just enough to look her in the eye again before I ask, "Now, are you ready to obey?"

She nods, and I press my body fully against hers, knowing she must feel- as our hips meet- how hard I am growing, in spite of our clothing. Her mouth is ready for mine, and I thrust my tongue between her parted lips, exploring her, tasting her. I feel her relax, and she even embraces me now. I have her. She is mine, and there will be no turning back, ever. I nibble at her lower lip, then at her chin, her jaw, and move to what little of her neck is exposed. A gentle bite elicits a very soft moan, and her own growing desire radiates from her, through me, looping back, my lust flowing into her. She belongs to me. She is in my arms, and I am in hers. She responds to me, but lets me guide it all, as I move back to her mouth again, then carefully unfasten the collar from her blouse, so I can finish up with more attention to her long, soft neck.

I think she knows now, that I mean what I say about loving her, and not wanting to hurt her- that the strength of my passion will not exceed my concern for her. As long as I am touching her, kissing her, I am partially satisfied- and that is enough to start off with. I just really, really, really wanted to make sure there WAS a start. And now there is. A very pleasurable one.

I stop my nibbling, and ask, "Did you find that enjoyable, or distasteful?"

Her shy whisper of one simple word, "Enjoyable," pleases me as much as the new level of intimacy has.

I am so delighted, I softly, chastely kiss her on the cheeks and forehead, before praising her, "You were such a good girl, my sweet. You behaved exactly as I hoped you would, once we started. I think you should feel proud of yourself, for pleasing me. Do you agree?"

She nods silently.

I back up a couple steps to give her some breathing room, then I say, "Now, tell me, too. Tell me out loud. I want to hear your pretty voice."

She lowers her eyes a bit, and says, "Yes, I am pleased that you feel I did so well."

I smile, and tell her, "I know I will enjoy making love to you, more than I have with anyone."

She looks a bit confused, "Anyone? Who- how... many? More than just... Henrietta?"

With a nervous little laugh, I say, "Well, I did have an experience or three before I met her, and before I decided on a religious life. But there was only one after we married- it is wrong enough, but I cannot change it now. It happened."

She thinks a moment, "Oh, I know who. Miss Kelly. That explains why you'd agree to fake her death and all."

I sigh with relief that I won't have to hide this any longer, "Yes. It was her. That is indeed why I went to such great lengths for her. I- I hope you are not too disappointed in me."

She shrugs, "Well, I'm not thrilled about you killing whoever you killed in her place- but as for the affair- It would be Henrietta who should be disappointed, not me. You didn't know me."

I sigh again, "If I _had _known you, I'd have cheated with _you_, rather than with Miss Kelly!"

She exclaims. "OH! I wouldn't ask for you to do that! I am **not **that type of girl, as you _should _know by now!"

I laugh, "You say that, but I can be very persuasive when I want something. Which I **KNOW **you know by now!"

She pauses, a twinge of fear coming back to her expression, as she looks into my eyes. Then she looks down toward my crotch, and says, "And you do want something more, though, in spite of what you said."

I feel almost embarrassed, for there is no way to dispute she is absolutely correct about what I want. I assure her, however, "I can take care of this myself, if you will excuse me for a few minutes."

And, now we are both a bit embarrassed, as she nods, and asks, "I'll... wait... on the sofa, I suppose? Or would you like me to go back to my room for a bit?"

"Would you feel... safer... waiting in _your _room?"

She admits she would, so I tell her she should do that- and that I will come fetch her soon- then I see her off with a quick, yet still passionate, kiss.

I peep my head out the doorway as she goes, just to be sure she is safe, until she gets back in her room and her door closes.

I know some would think I'm excessively cautious about that, but I'd never forgive myself if something happened to her, while I hid here out of embarrassment, just in case someone casually walking by would see my state of arousal. Which, honestly, they'd probably be too preoccupied with their own problems to even notice, let alone care about.

Unless it were Sheridan- as he certainly seems to be quite interested in my continued activities here- but I'd honestly enjoy having **him **think I might be getting some ass!

I step into my restroom, jerk myself off, clean up a bit, and relax on my bed for a few minutes.

* * *

***Kaitlyn***

I'm afraid of feeding into the stereotype that women seem OK with something, then change their minds... But I'm thinking of the way Sebastian went about things just now, and it makes me a bit angry. His "persuasion" was far from gentle. He did, essentially, force himself on me, even if he _seemed _to ask my permission- asking it after he'd already trapped me against the wall; and even if what he forced was not all that much more than a kiss. And even if he was technically right that I didn't truly want to resist. It just wasn't... gentlemanly. I so do not want to be this person, this woman, here saying "How dare he!" and also admitting I liked it. But I am that woman.

How I can possibly reconcile that with having had a past situation with a man where I didn't want it at all, and didn't enjoy it at all... I don't know.

I have a feeling Sebastian, if you asked him, might not think he "forced" anything on me. That he was just being a real man or something.

I guess that's how I'll reconcile it.

The thing in the past that I totally didn't want... I totally didn't want.

This is different because I did want it- just not quite that way.

It's somewhere in between the awful thing, and the fun of the young men I fully consented to seduction with.

I should perhaps expect more of this confusion, though. More conflicting feelings of wanting and not wanting... Not wanting to excuse, but realizing I need to consider whatever it is he's likely thinking. Realizing his thoughts won't be entirely "normal". And in itself, not normal is fine. I'm not normal. As they say, "Who is?"

I think over the Ripper murders yet again, and no matter how much I now want to, I cannot escape the conclusion that he was a sex offender; no matter what **he** tries to say about the murders lacking sexual motivation. Most people do characterize the whole thing in a sexual way, but Sebastian isn't the only one who has tried to claim this wasn't the motive. I mean, yes- he himself is the Ripper, so of course he personally wouldn't want to stress the sexual aspects of the crimes to me, a woman he is trying to woo- but other folks have tried to minimize them too. (Then you have those who overplay it, but that's another story.)

Those who promote the idea of a female Ripper point out no semen was found on the victims. Some who reject that idea, but favor religious extremist suspects, use lack of semen as evidence the motive was completely unrelated to sex. Which is ridiculous, because having sex with too many folks is, obviously, exactly what such men would be condemning the prostitute victims **for**. Some say the killer was sexually frustrated from impotence.

That he did not ejaculate on or in the victims does not prove impotence or lack of sexual interest on the part of the killer. Much less does it _prove _a woman did it!

And, in this Universe I'm in now, obviously no woman did it- as Sebastian sure is not a woman! And... not impotent, either... Not with what I felt pressed against me...

The fact he had other motives, and those may have been more primary in his mind, does not negate the subtext it's all built on.

And how that all relates to me is; he wants to be in complete and sole possession of me, sexually speaking.

**He wants for me to, indeed, **_**belong **_**to him.**

Oh fuck. I wonder what type of things he really wants to do with me? I wish I could ask Mary Kelly! Thankfully I already know a decent bit about "kink", but...his true desires could still be far more than I'm prepared for. I really doubt that Delenn would want to talk about any BDSM elements of the interrogation. It was foolish not to consider he would have become aroused by having such an attractive woman under his control. Well, at least I have the open offer of "woman-to-woman" talk from Commander- oh, wait, that's right- I can call her "Susan"- from _Susan _Ivanova.

As I ponder this, the door rings, and I hear Sebastian say, "Sweet Kaitlyn, I, Sebastian, your dashingly handsome and incredibly modest suitor, am here!"

While I know his voice very well, and most likely no one else would say something so... um, yeah... I still check the view on the monitor before letting him in. And even though I am upset and worried, I do get a thrill seeing his face, knowing he's here for _me_! But what else do I see? More roses! Oh, so he thinks to buy me this way, does he? He thinks this will smooth over his behavior? My anger _at that behavior _was subsiding, and now _this thought _makes me a bit angry again.

"Why did you buy more roses? You just bought some this morning! Isn't this a bit much?" I ask him, a little annoyed, as he walks through the door. He smirks, winks, and tells me, "We're all mad here- remember that!" I say, "You and I are mad, to be sure, but plenty of others must be sane." He raises his eyebrows for effect, and says, "Plenty of others sane? Here on this station? Oh, fewer than you'd think, dear. Far fewer than you would think."

He puts the three new roses in the very classy water bottle with the others, and laughs, "I think we need a proper vase for these, don't you?"

I opine that it isn't necessary, but he says next time we go out, we'll look for one.

I look over at the time display, and casually say, "I can't believe so much has happened, and it is not quite half-past noon," at which Sebastian gasps, "After noon, you say? Oh dear. Kosh told me I should watch the Noon News on ISN today! How far- oh my. Twenty minutes past! Well..."

He dashes to the sofa, grabs the remote and turns the vidscreen on to ISN. The news is still on. "I believe it is a half-hour broadcast." he says, and motions me to sit down next to him, which I do. The story on now is about some mining agreements on Mars. "Definitely wasn't this story," Sebastian sighs, as the segment finishes. A different lady announcer from the one I saw yesterday, but still not the one I thought I'd see, tells us, "And after this, we will finish with a story of interest to cat lovers." Sebastian says, "Well, you'll want to hear that one. And she was smiling, so, I presume it isn't about cruelty." I righteously say, "It better not be cruelty, or I'll-" and Sebastian cuts in, "Kill whoever is responsible?"

I give him a slightly uncomfortable look, and he smiles, as he tells me, "I'm right with you on that one. Even though we both ate chicken yesterday, and thus are not vegetarians. But that is different, to me. If they can manage the slaughter quickly. But prolonging a painful death, whether for food, fashion, research or sport, these I cannot abide. I- I was also protesting vivisection- in the murders- with the little things I did to the bodies after- though that aspect wasn't quite clear, was it?"

I don't know what to do or say in response. I shrug, and tell him, "At least you know you tried." Then I give him a little pat on the back, as if I am consoling a child who came in second or third in a spelling bee.

Now the cat story comes on, and it turns out that there is a feline overpopulation problem on Minbar- but the cats are from Earth. The cats are still mostly near the Ranger Academy, so it's suspected a human student is responsible.

"I hope they don't do what humans would do! Would they, Sebastian?"

"Do I know? Let's listen and find out."

A narrator says, "Although Shakiri, a prominent member of the Warrior Caste advocates killing off the alien species, even most of his own Caste oppose such measures, as the native Minbari versions of lions and tigers have long been revered by many Warrior Clans. The Religious Caste are near unanimous that the cats are pure, innocent beings, having arrived on the planet through no fault of their own, and their lives must be spared. Workers also oppose killing these animals. One potential solution has already been tried, and failed: Birth control medications which work for the native cat-like animals of Minbar are ineffective on Earth cats, and currently no veterinarian on Minbar is certified to spay or neuter Earth cats. So, the Ranger Academy officially sends out a plea for veterinary assistance from Earth. Earth's Ambassador, Jeffrey Sinclair, sends this official message:"

And next, Sinclair's face comes on, and in his majestic baritone he says, "My fellow earthlings, as Ambassador to Minbar, I ask a favor on behalf of the Minbari people. Somehow, cats from Earth were brought to this planet, Minbar, and began to reproduce. This is not the fault of the animals themselves, and the Minbari people recognize this, and wish to do no harm. However, the situation itself could harm Minbar's ecosystem. Given the success of Trap-Neuter-Release programs in managing feral colonies on Earth, the Minbari would like to implement such a program here. What is most needed, though, is a staff of Earth-trained veterinarians who can perform the spay and neuter operations confidently. Volunteers to manage the colonies will be sought first among the native population, but if the need cannot be met, further requests will be made from this office. Thank you. Ambassador Sinclair out."

Now the view switches back to the studio, and the lady says, "Well, that sounds like a story that will have nine lives! And that's our news at noon! I'll see you tomorrow."

Sebastian and I both face-palm at the "nine lives" pun. "How did I know that would be in there somewhere?" I ask.

The credits roll on the news, and I hear a voice-over say, "And next, on a very special episode of Babylon Park, Gary Baldy gets in touch with his feminine side, and Commander Ivana Nova mud-wrestles with both Narn and Centauri spies!"

At first, I think I must have heard wrong. **Babylon Park?**The animations from the internet that parodied both Babylon 5 and South Park together? The same series that... eep... Wayne Alexander... among other real B5 talent did cameo voice-overs on? Others, like Maggie Egan, Pat Tallman, Jeffrey Willerth, and Robin Atkin-Downes? If Babylon 5 itself is real, but the show wasn't, then... how...? My brain hurts.

I ask Sebastian, "Did they just say '_Babylon Park_' is on next?" and he affirms that I heard correctly. "Yes, I do believe they called it 'Babylon Park'. That's what it sounded like to me." What he says next surprises me, "I don't know what it is, but I suppose it must be about this station."

I am floored, "So- I've heard of this show- but you haven't? And yet it apparently is a real thing, because they just said it's coming up! It won't be like the Christopher Franke thing. It's real. It's on next. And- and I've **heard** of it, Sebastian. I have! I've even **seen** it before!"

He gives one of those silly, high laughs, "Well, that's good, I'm so pleased it makes you happy. What about this commercial? Do you like it, too? Have you seen it?"

I huff dismissively, "Of course not. Although, I see it is for cosmetics. What would you think if I bought something to paint my face?"

He looks at me and says, "Don't be silly. You are beautiful as nature made you."

Now I laugh with a bit of mischief, "I wear clothing. Nature did not put this blouse or skirt on me."

Oops, I shouldn't have done that! He responds, "Nor did nature put this shirt or trousers on me. And certainly not this- necktie. Oh, _that's _coming off."

He makes quite a show of untying and removing his tie, waving it about afterward, before suddenly grabbing my wrists, and starting to wrap and tie it around them, laughing.

I try to pull away, and shout, "HEY! The show is starting! And LOOK! It's a CARTOON! **I LOVE CARTOONS! **I want to WATCH this, **DAMMIT**!"

Amazingly, he gives up, unwraps what he'd done so far, and lets me be.

Realizing the show looks remarkably like what I think it's supposed to be, I ask aloud, "I wonder how this is going to work. Why, Mr Mordy the Shadow Poo can't be on there, since the Shadows haven't come yet! And he introduces the whole thing!"

Sebastian laughs, ridiculously, "What are you even talking about, Kaitlyn? Shadow poo? I don't think they defecate, dear."

His patronizing attitude irritates me a bit too much after he just tried to tie me up, which in turn is not all THAT long after backing me up against a wall so I'd have little choice but to let him kiss me.

I storm up to the vidscreen, pointing and shouting, "OK, Sebastian! So this is ALL real and I'm from 1888? RIGHT? WELL! I may not be dreaming- but **THIS SHOW being on PROVES the Universe is trying to make me completely INSANE!**"

He clears his throat, probably in lieu of laughing at me again, "Kaitlyn- it is just a cartoon that a few moments ago you were shouting for me to let you watch. And now you are shouting _at the cartoon_. Dare I ask for clarification here?"

"**NO**!" I shout, "I already told you I've seen Babylon Park before! But THIS time you don't believe me because YOU never saw it! **Because it's all about YOU**!"

He shakes his head, "It is fine. I believe you. There are all sorts of things going on with the Vorlons developing telepaths, I'm sure you could have briefly crossed mindstreams with one or more of them, too."

"No, Sebastian!", I insist, "I saw it myself, with my own eyes, **on a computer screen**! It was a parody of the show Babylon 5! And another show, South Park! **Have you ever heard of South Park**?"

He shakes his head again, "No. I have not. But dear, it is apparent you are becoming hysterical. Please sit back down. I apologize for horsing around trying to tie you up. I'm sorry."

I reluctantly accept the apology, sit back down, and watch the show.

On it, Ivana Nova runs into the C&C yelling, "Oh no! Captain Sherman! We've got spies on the station! They've captured Zack!" Sherman shouts, "Oh no! Have they made any demands?" Ivana Nova nods, "Yes, yes they have. They will release Zack if Gary Baldy does a striptease in women's underwear, and I mudwrestle their top female agents." They agree this is what must be done then, and much hijinks ensues.

Soon I am laughing, and feeling much better- and to my surprise Sebastian laughs way louder than I do. He shouldn't be that high anymore! But he seems to be genuinely amused, and exclaims, "This is the **STUPIDEST **thing I have **EVER SEEN**! **I LOVE IT**!"

This makes me quite happy, really. And I tell Sebastian so. With that, he puts his arm around me, gently.

After this episode, it turns out ANOTHER is on! Two in a row! How lucky can we get?

We enjoy ourselves immensely now, just sitting together, laughing, embracing.

All thanks to Babylon Park!

_Of course it can't last._

Soon we get a call from Kosh requesting Sebastian come to him immediately for some additional paperwork/review/formalities of some sort.

Sebastian is very annoyed, to say the least.

"You have to be joking! Wait- don't say it, Kosh! I know very well Vorlons do not joke! I just don't get HOW, all of a sudden-"

Kosh softly intones, "This reflects the wishes of Ulkesh."

Sebastian grimaces at the mention of the name, "Oh, of course. Well, that alone explains it, that _bastard_!"

"His natal origins are sound." replies Kosh.

This response puzzles me a bit, but Sebastian realizes what happened, and clarifies, "What? Oh, 'bastard'... I meant nothing about his parentage. It's just a general purpose insult, really."

"Ah. Such as 'jerk', 'asshole', 'shithead', and the like." These words definitely sound odd spoken in such a calm way.

Neither Sebastian nor I can help laughing. "Yes, yes. Very much so!"

Kosh of course does not laugh, but simply adds, "Then I concur with your assessment."

Sebastian looks truly relieved, "Oh, you have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that!"

"Very good. Now you will come over here."

This last is of course not a question. Sebastian has to listen to the Vorlons, whether he's still an Inquisitor or not.

He kisses me more sweetly and gently than he has so far, then tells me he'll probably be gone about an hour.

He says the type of things I've already come to expect, "Do not go anywhere, and do not let anyone else in here. Do you understand?"

I nod, but ask, "What about Commander Ivanova? May I invite her over?"

He honestly looks relieved, "Ah! Yes! To protect you while I'm gone. Good thinking."

Well, it wasn't exactly what I was thinking...

I was thinking of that woman-to-woman talk she offered, because I really, really need it!

It's good either way though.

As Sebastian goes, he shouts, "I love you, Kaitlyn!"

And I shout back, "I love you too, Sebastian!"

I suddenly realize I hadn't said it in quite that way yet, shouting it out so plainly.

"I love you, Sebastian." I whisper to myself, quietly, after the door closes.

I think it really is true now. I love him.

I _love_ him.

Goddess help me...


	7. An adult game

***Kaitlyn***

Sebastian is meeting with Kosh, and they will be in conference with Ulkesh,

So... I have a chance to call Commander Ivanova.

She answers right away! "Oh, hello. Kaitlyn, what can I do for you?" She seems truly eager to help.  
I speak with great relief, "I need to have that woman to woman talk. And this is a good time, see- Sebastian's at Kosh's place for about an hour- it turns out even the Vorlons have paperwork, so I have some time to myself. Anyway, as I'm sure you've figured out, I have no one else to have any type of talk with. All my friends and relatives are dead. I'm stuck here with Sebastian. I mean, I like him, _a lot_. Truthfully, I believe I am falling in love with him, but..."

She nods too concernedly, "Yes, I understand. He's a very unusual man. Do you feel safe around him? Comfortable?"

I try to assure her, "Oh, I do. Most of the time. I haven't known him long, yet I feel like I know him very well, and I know he wouldn't intentionally harm me."

She's not that convinced, "I wanted to make sure. He's... I don't know what to call it but absurdly patriarchal...then, maybe it seems more normal to you, being from his time."

So, I try again, "I don't mind it so far. When everything I'm dealing with is so new, overprotective is far better than uncaring."

But now she sounds even less convinced: "Well, if you're sure 'overprotective' is really what it is- please, remember what I said earlier- that **I'm **the one who looked this man up in the computer for Captain Sheridan. We figured out pretty quickly his name wasn't really 'Sebastian', since no record with that as either first or last name came even close to him... And of course, he gave a bogus address, too. So, then we did a facial recognition search, and found who he REALLY was."

I smile awkwardly, "Yes, I know. He was... Reverend Samuel Barnett. Vicar of St. Jude's in Whitechapel."

Susan shakes her head slowly, "That is not what I meant. It's true... that was his name, and his position, but there's more to it. I don't think you'll like it-"

I can't help rolling my eyes, as I say, "I might know more than you think. He has been very forthcoming."

She exhales profoundly, and continues, "Well, I'd be surprised if he's been forthcoming with what I'm about to tell you: We compared his data with certain events of the time, certain... um, violent criminal acts... and we became suspicious of-"

OK, that's enough. I cut in here, "Uh, Commander, I already know he was Jack the Ripper. It's fine."

She pauses a moment with her worried, and now also very surprised, look, then asks, "You know he was _Jack the Ripper_, and that's... fine? _Really_? Fine?"

I sigh, "Well, it worried me at first, but he can tell I'm not... that kind of girl."

And... now she sounds more doubtful than ever. "If you think that alone means you're safe... Look, I really want you to be careful. Um, do you know where my quarters are?"

And... I know what I'm about to say won't help any, but I have to say it. "No, and it doesn't matter anyway. I'm not allowed to leave my room without him."  
"That's the type of thing that worries me-" she looks a little... judgmental... not sure whether of him, me, or both.

"But I know I'd get lost! And if I have to go anywhere near the Zocalo, those crowds... even walking with Sebastian I was afraid of all the strange creatures. And honestly, I swear much of his behavior toward me is normal, thank you! Trust me, I've dealt with some real weirdos. I've met people less sane than he is. There have to be some on this station, too! And I can direct you to newspaper articles about 19th century murders even more heinous and _definitely _more plentiful. And nowadays, I'm sure there are far worse crimes than he ever dreamed of committing, if you want to compare THAT angle of it."

She waves her hands a bit, "No, let's not. I just want to let you know you don't have to choose the predator you fear the least, OK?"

I roll my eyes, and sigh, "Well, the Vorlons chose me for him, so I don't know what say anyone has, even me, or him, let alone you. So, if you can't talk about what I need to talk about, without trying to actively dissuade me from loving him, I don't know what use it will be. And like I said, even though I feel weird saying I love him so soon- I think I do love him."

She nods fast, "OK, OK, Look, I am coming **right **over there. **Now**. OK? Red 5 is it?"

"Yes, room 137."

"I'll be there as quick as I can. Ivanova out."

Somewhere between five and ten minutes later, the door rings, and I hear, "Hello? Kaitlyn? Susan Ivanova here." I look at the hall monitor, and it's her.

I open the door, and say hello, which she says back to me.

She's calm and collected, friendly. "It's OK, Kaitlyn. I'm here."

I do feel a sense of relief. "Oh, I'm so glad to talk to you, Susan! I'm so... confused! About everything!"

She looks very concerned, "Hey, uh, first I was wondering something- are you, um, fully grown? An adult?"

I nod enthusiastically, "Oh, yes! I am! I'm 27 years old, in fact."

She looks surprised, "27? Really? Wow. I'd think at _most _18! You aren't joking with me, are you?"

I swear to her, "Oh, no, I wouldn't joke! But it doesn't offend me. I have always looked young, and been small, too. Everyone thinks I should be in school!"

With a smile, she tells me, "I'm very relieved to know you're not 14 or 15, which is what I thought."

I reaffirm, "That's typical for me, as I said. No problem. I understand you'd really worry about a teen-aged girl being alone with a man all day."

She puts a comforting hand on my shoulder, "Well, I wouldn't care any **less **if you were over 40! I can barely imagine what you must be going through, waking up here on this station, so far in the future... that's enough to confuse **anyone**. And the only other person here from your time is _Sebastian_. And, well... what can I say about him? He is quite... unique, let's just say. So, go ahead, just tell me anything you want."

I don't know where to start- so I just blather away, "He's so... different. Oh, **so **different! He's so... wow. I mean, WOW! He's just, like, I just don't know what to say! He's so _amazing _and so crazy, and **sexy**, but he can sure be upsetting and annoying, and yet- his voice, oh his voice! It's _**SOOO HOT **_when he flirts with me, and his eyes are **wild **and passionate and it's a little scary how_ strong he is _when he grabs me, but I **like **it, even though I'm frightened, and liking it scares me more- but not really, because I like it and I love HIM, oh, do I love him- and he's just so amazing, OH MY GOD! OH MY GODDESS! I feel like I'm crazy now too, just like him, and I just can't even, oh, **yes, I am definitely confused!**"

Oh I just rattled on something awful there. I don't know half of what I said. Shit. Shit. Shit. I probably do sound crazy. She's sitting there looking at me like I am. I think. Or maybe it's just concern. Yeah, it's probably concern because I sound _crazy_!

And now she's doing that nod that a councilor would. Ugh. "OK... I see. So... you like him, but he scares you."

I better clear this up. "Oh! Oh! I don't mean it that way... well.. sort of... but I don't." And I know I'm clear as mud.

And she's still worried for me. "It's OK. You can be confused. And if you're scared of him, I want to know."

Damn. I need to clarify it- clarify it-"No no no! I don't mean that! I messed up. I didn't mean to say that."

Now it's a concerned head **tilt**, too. "Are you _sure_, Kaitlyn? He's **Jack the Ripper**. I'd totally understand if you're scared about that."

I sigh with annoyance, "I know, but..."

And now comes a more _firm _concern, "I just want to make sure that he hasn't harmed you. Has he... hit you?"

So it's get defensive time, for me, "No! Certainly not! Nor pushed, shoved or what have you!"

She softens her tone again, "Sorry, I don't want to upset you, but... Is he doing things that make you uncomfortable?"

I shrug, "Everyone does. I am shy and have sensory processing issues."

She exhales audibly, "OK, unusually uncomfortable then. More than most."

I ask, cautiously, "What if I was uncomfortable in a way that felt good?"

She looks intrigued, "Uh, come again? How so?"

I laugh nervously, "Oh... nothing... just the way he... kissed me. It was... he was... aggressive- yes, it scared me, but, oh, _it sure felt good_!"

Concern-nod again, "Did you WANT him to kiss you, though?"

And more nervous laughing from me, "Uh... I wasn't sure. But when he did, it was... _awesome_!"

"Is that the only thing he's done?" No major gesture this time.

I hesitate, then answer, "Well, we've yelled at each other. And he did try to tie me up..."

Oh, **now **she's reacting! Big gasp- "What? **Tie you up**?** What FOR**?"

I desperately shrug it off, "Oh, it was nothing. He was playing around. He stopped."

She's shaking her head. "I don't know, Kaitlyn, he's just not right. Which I know you know, but... I just want to be sure you REALLY know. You know?"

I wave my hand dismissively, "I know him better than you do! You only knew him for five or ten minutes."

Still shaking her head, "And _you've only known him about a day and a half_, yet he seems to think _he owns you_."

And I stomp, "**Does not! **Not really. I mean, I've known of worse."

"You've known worse? How so?"

I turn away. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You called me here to do just that." she reminds. And I know I'm now acting rather childish...

"Uh... fine. I... have to use the restroom."

"OK. Go ahead. I'll still be here for you."

I close the restroom door and grumble to myself a bit. How dare she assume! And yet... why wouldn't she? And I _**am **_the one who called her, not the other way around. Damn.

I realize I do indeed have to do what one normally does in this room, so I do that... then mull things over even more, as I again try to figure out how the waterless toilet flushes and the vibe sink actually cleans without water. And I wonder if Sebastian ever did get that jelly out of his shirt from yesterday. Which isn't the point of anything at all... so, I muster up the courage to go back out and face Ivanova again. Since, as I just told myself, _I'm the one who called..._

I try to be firm, "Look, I know I wanted help, but not preachy help! If I want a preacher, I already HAVE Sebastian!"

But, this is Ivanova... she's firmer. "If I'm 'preachy' it's because even in this day you see women hurt by men who claim to love them. In _your time_... frankly, I have the impression it was almost status quo. And I'd like to be wrong about that second part, but if I'm right, I **have **to stand up for you." She's so dutiful. What can I say?

I can get mad! "Oh, of course! Because Victorian women were ALL meek little mice who couldn't stand up for themselves! Is THAT it? Do I sound like a RODENT, Commander Ivanova? Do I?"

She doesn't like that! "Hey- calm down. It's OK. I'm not judging you. I'm not calling you weak. I'm just... making sure."

I toss my head back dramatically, "OH! Really? It was starting to sound like you don't trust me to be an adult and make my own decisions about this. So you think you need to interfere on my behalf to protect me from that evil predatory man. When all I wanted was just a little advice."

She just exhales and shakes her head again.

Just as I'm thinking of how much I now want Sebastian to get back here, like right now, the door rings, and I call out, "Sebastian? Is that you?!"

It isn't.

Instead I hear, "No, Miss. It's Captain Sheridan." Well, I'm a little surprised by this.

What. The. Fuck. _What the fuck?_

Susan goes to the door and lets him in without my permission.

I stare, aghast.

"What is _**he **_doing here?" I ask, apprehensively. I really want Sebastian to get back quickly now!

Sheridan says, "The Commander called for me to come, and I did."

"Called? When? How?" I ask indignantly.

"On my com link. When you were in the restroom. I'm sorry, but I wanted him to see you and hear what you have to say. And I hope you'll listen to what he has to say."

Angry, frustrated, not knowing what to do, I stomp my foot and declare, "Well, No! I don't want him here! I don't like where this is going! You didn't play fair! I want **Sebastian**, not him!"

Wow, I am not helping myself seem my age. But this is so terribly frustrating!

Ivanova says, "Kaitlyn, you are very young- so listen to me- I think you have more to fear from your boyfriend than from the Captain. He just wants to talk to you. Address a few concerns I have."

Susan then tells Sheridan, "He's already forced some unwanted attentions on her- he even tied her up."

Defensively, I stammer, "H- he was- just... just joking around with that part. Honest, he was. And he undid it when I protested. He did. He did!"

While stammering that, I started to cry, of course. Not like this surprises me. I know I cry easily. I'm only surprised it took me this long to start. But of course now they talk **about **me to each other like I can't even speak for myself, like I'm a puppy or kitten or something.

Sheridan asks Ivanova, "What could she possibly have done to make him want to tie her up? Look at the poor little thing crying! She's so innocent!"

Ivanova is nodding, "I know. I know. He's just _sick_. Sick."

Sheridan asks her, "And she's even younger-looking than you described- my GOD! I don't think she looks over thirteen. What the HELL are the Vorlons playing at here? Don't they understand what is and isn't an adult human?"

Ivanova tells him, with a look that confirms she didn't believe me, "I have no idea what the Vorlons think. I asked her how old she is. She says she's 27. I know. I know."

Sheridan gives an indignant laugh, "27 my ass!" then he sees me look angrily at him, and says, "Oh! I beg your pardon miss! I shouldn't talk like that in front of a lady."

Um, maybe you also shouldn't be doubting my word, dude? I wish I could yell that at him, but I'm crying too hard now. I try- "Y- y- huh-huh- shoo-shoo- do- muh- me-" No. Didn't work. I was unintelligible, and it made me start to wheeze a bit.

Ivanova asks me if I'm OK, pats me on the back, takes me over to the sofa to sit, and tells Sheridan, "Hey, could you get her a water out of the mini bar, OK?" Which he does. I carefully take a couple sips, and start to cough. I know my nose is about to start running too now. I mutter, "By doze? W-wunnig?" Sheridan says, "Ah! Her nose- it's running. I'll get tissue!" So he goes into the restroom and grabs me a wad of toilet paper, which I start blowing my nose on.

Come to think of it, these two look a bit taller and larger-framed than Claudia Christian and Bruce Boxleitner, even if everything else appears the same. So my size, in this time probably does make me seem even younger than it did in 1999, when my frame still was more like a young adolescent's than that of the average adult woman. Why didn't I think earlier, in the garden, that Ivanova seemed _unusually _tall? Oh, well- I know- of course. Sebastian and I were both wearing boots with heels and she wasn't. Boots I'm not wearing right now- for I've put a pair of thick socks on as slippers! So, if I was frequently mistaken for sixteen in _1999_, maybe I really could seem like thirteen in 2259...

And they are just standing there staring at me with exaggerated concern. I say, "Danks fuh tissoo. Buh pleez lee bee low dow."

Sheridan shakes his head, "Leave you alone now? No, that's the last thing we should do with a young lady who is clearly so distraught, and afraid at being left alone on a space station with Jack the Ripper. And, we know you want to seem grown-up and tough, but there's no way you're twenty-seven."

Wow. I don't like being accused of lying when I'm not, even if the motive they ascribe is not malicious. Nor do I like what they are apparently accusing Sebastian of, if they think I am in the thirteen to fifteen age range.

Now I'm actually happy to have them go back to talking **about **me instead of to me. I don't even **want **to talk to them.

Ivanova says something about how, "While the 'Jack' thing is awful, as for the rest, it wasn't unusual for a sixteen year old girl to marry a man in his forties way back in the old days," and Sheridan's all, "Oh, maybe, but I still don't like it..."

I look at the time. Sebastian has been out for an hour and fifteen minutes. He's got to get back here soon.

Please, please, please...

After three of the _**longest **_minutes I have ever experienced, finally the door rings again, and this time I hear Sebastian's voice saying, "I'm back, dear Kaitlyn."

I run to open the door, and when he enters, I throw my arms around him.

"Kaitlyn! You're crying! Crying very hard! And... I see we have more company than I expected."

He glowers at Sheridan, and demands, "**WHAT is THIS, Captain? **WHY is my sweet bride-to-be so distraught?"

I am still sobbing so intensely that I can barely speak. "The- they- uh," I sniffle, my nose running again. Sebastian tells me not to try to answer, "**Let HIM tell me**!" he shouts as he points at Sheridan- then he retrieves a handkerchief, wipes my nose for me with it, then mushes it into a bit of a ball and throws it at the Captain.

Sheridan may be a great war tactician, but somehow he can't **both **answer Sebastian **and **dodge the snot-missile; and as he starts to reply, "The Commander simply wanted me to address a few concerns about your..." Ivanova can't fully suppress a laugh at how the Captain's new "accessory" has become stuck to his left shoulder. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry- but-" she says. Sheridan's face- as he carefully removes the offending object, silently dumps it in a wastebasket, and silently returns to his previous spot- is indeed the funniest thing I've seen since, oh, Babylon Park. Now I laugh too, and so does Sebastian. We in turn make Ivanova laugh harder. Sheridan himself is last to start laughing, but he can't help it, either.

Sheridan is first to **stop **laughing, though. He clears his throat loudly, and says, "Hey, it wasn't **that **funny."

Sebastian smirks at him, "Oh, I think it was. And I certainly wasn't going for humor. I was very angry. But it worked out great!"

I say, "Id was br-bri- uh- good." And my dear one holds me gently, gazing lovingly into my eyes. Then he asks me, softly, "Did you have any sort of concern you wanted Captain Sheridan to address?" I emphatically say, with my very stuffed-up nose, "DO! SEE call hib here! While I go baffroom! Twick me! Dey say you twy to hurt me. I twy to say not twoo. You cwazy bud you lub me. I only a wittle scared because you lub me so quick... nod because I don't want ad lub you too." He softly kisses my forehead, and says, "There there, my little one. They just don't realize how strong our love is. And they don't realize that I fully understand the gravity of the wrongs I did in the past, and have no desire to repeat them. They also don't understand that being an Inquisitor was a **job **for me, not something I wanted to do. They don't know me."

Ivanova and Sheridan mutter some things to each other quietly. They seem surprised at how gentle and caring Sebastian is being with me. They are not fully convinced everything's just fine, but look to be surprised and reconsidering a bit. Susan apologizes, "Hey, I'm sorry, Kaitlyn. I shouldn't have disregarded your... autonomy... when that's what I was getting angry about Sebastian doing. OK?"

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, "Oh, goodness. Disregarding her autonomy? Not very _Feminist _of you, Commander. _Or of me_, but I daresay one expects such behavior from a man of my era."

Ivanova responds, "Hey, don't give me **attitude**, Victorian boy. You don't scare **me**."

He laughs, "Oh, I think I could arrange it so that I **do **scare you, though. Not that I **will**, or **want **to. But I _could_."

Sheridan shouts, "HEY! Don't threaten my officers on this station!"

Sebastian lifts his head a bit, and teases, "Oh, Captain, Captain, Captain! That was a mere statement of possibility, not a threat. Nothing less than what you two deserve for distressing poor Kaitlyn so! And **you**, sir, do not scare me **one bit**. Nor _could _you."

Sebastian knows exactly how he's playing Sheridan here, for the Captain next responds, "Yeah, Mr. Sebastian? Come over here closer and say that again!"

And Sebastian just laughs at him and then turns and says to me, "Oooh, look Kaitlyn- it's a Space Cowboy! A rare species, but fascinating to watch."

I laugh a bit with him, but do notice neither Sheridan nor Ivanova are amused. Which observation I whisper in Sebastian's ear, along with the hope to be alone with him again now. He nods at me, and states to them: "My darling here tells me that she would like for the two of you to get the hell out of here now. She put it more politely, but- I see no need to be polite to those who've upset her."

It is Ivanova who does the sensible thing, and says, "Yes, very well then. The Captain and I realize we may have jumped to conclusions, and maybe you aren't, um, completely evil, just somewhat evil. But good enough to be nice to Kaitlyn. So... we will leave you two alone now as you please." Then she starts to head out, and motions for Sheridan to follow, which he does, sulking the whole way. I hear him mutter something about Sebastian being an asshole, and Ivanova shushing him, before the door closes and they are out of sight.

I now look up at Sebastian, and say, "I really do love you. I do. I know that more than before. It doesn't matter if it's only been a couple days. This is the real thing. And even if you screw up, I know you mean well for me." He smiles, and asks if he may kiss me. I say yes, and we kiss very passionately and thoroughly.

"I'm... a bit tired out now," I say, "That whole confrontation was too much for me." Sebastian nods, and says I should get some rest, then. I agree, but tell him I don't want to be alone. "Oh, I intend to stay," he says, "I could not be apart from you right now. You _need _someone with you. Just... not Ivanova or Sheridan!"

* * *

***Sebastian***

I guide Kaitlyn over to her bed, hoping she won't faint before she gets there. Even without the level of surprise she woke up to yesterday, she hasn't had an easy day. And this day is definitely not over yet. She sits on the edge and rubs her forehead.

"Do you have a headache?"

"Yes."

"I'm not surprised. I'm sure I have something for that, though."

"As long as it's not your... um... throbbing manhood. Oh, I feel awful." From the look on her face, I definitely believe she is not well.

I speak softly, as caringly as I can, "Rest will help you. And... I'm not currently 'throbbing', so don't worry about that."

In spite of the soft tone, she retorts, "Oh, so you really **can **spend more than five minutes in my presence without getting an erection!" She doesn't sound angry, though, just sad. Plus I fully realize how "I have something for that" could have sounded like innuendo, all the more so given how many true innuendos I've used!

I pat her on the shoulder, "Now, now, dear. I know I must seem an absolute fiend to you, but I am not."

She sighs, most pitifully, and begins to cry a bit. "Oh, Sebastian... I don't mean it. I'm just so upset."

I sit down next to her, kiss her softly on the cheek, and tell her that I know, and I don't blame her with all she's been through.

I see I have indeed left my bag over here, which is good, for I have it handy to give her some aspirin. She looks doubtful, "This stuff makes me throw up. Sometimes. But I can just take it and pray, I guess."

I say, "I'm sure you don't want to go see the doctor. Who knows what the crew will think I've done to you then."

She is so apologetic looking, "I almost feel guilty for calling Ivanova now!"

I must reassure her, "Don't feel that way. I understand you'd want another woman's input on things when it comes to love."

She still looks upset, "And I wanted to talk about love, but she kept turning the talk to abuse. She asked me if you'd hit or pushed me or whatever."

"Why... why did she ask such a thing?" I inquire, though I have a clear enough idea why someone could think it...

She answers, "Apparently they all expect you to be slapping me around! I don't want to jump to conclusions here, but I think it just might have something to do with your, um, 'past' shall we say."

I sigh, "I suppose I should perhaps expect such assumptions. At least I don't have to live up- or down- to them."

She continues, "There's more. They also think I am a child. Or at least they don't think I'm an adult. That makes you look a bit worse yet."

Oh no. This isn't good... "How young do they think you are?"

She laughs humorlessly, "Between thirteen and sixteen. I told them my age and they don't believe me."

And I am quite taken aback, "Thirteen! Good HEAVENS! I'd NEVER! I- I myself would take you for nineteen or twenty, if I didn't know the truth, but thirteen? How?"

She opines with a shrug, "Maybe it doesn't occur to you, as even though you are from the past you are still a reasonable height for a man now, but did you notice just how **petite **I am next to Ivanova and Sheridan? I know I'd said earlier Susan's just like on the show, but on second look she's clearly taller and bigger-framed than the actress. And Sheridan, well, he's taller, too."

I wonder, "Kaitlyn, do you believe you were also on this show? How do you know just how tall these people are?"

"Oh! No, I realize I wasn't on the show. I met them at sci-fi conventions."

"Ah. I see." At least that makes some sense as an explanation. Her mind is still making up fantasies, but at least they are logical.

I give her water, and the aspirin, which she takes. Of course, I remember not more than a few minutes ago, my dear Kaitlyn wanted to take a rest.

"Aren't you tired, my little sweetheart? That honestly is why I brought you over to the bed, not for any other purpose. At least not at the moment."

She nods, "Yes... yes..." and now reclines.

"Now that's better, isn't it?" I ask, and she nods again.

Her face clearly shows both exhaustion, **and **anguish, though. Poor... oh goodness... almost thought 'poor **child' **there. I suppose she is still child-like in some ways, but it doesn't make her an actual child. It doesn't mean there is anything wrong with my loving and wanting her!

I lay down next to her. "May I lay here with you? I won't do anything. I just want to be with you."

"Yes, it's OK."

We do manage to rest quietly for several minutes, then she asks me, "How did your Vorlon meeting go?"

I'm not big on talking about it, but I do answer, "Not well. Kosh was not so bad with me, but I am thankful Ulkesh was only on the vidscreen, not really there."

She asks, "What did they say or do?"

"Oh, it was honestly all Ulkesh. He told me not to be _full of myself _for being the one to find the Chosen, that I didn't find her- that **she **found **me**- that she even **broke **me... It was awful."

"Why would he say she broke you?"

"Uh... I'm not sure, but I'll tell you what he said: 'You do not understand, and you probably _never _will.'"

She laughs, "Oh, that's helpful."

"Isn't it, though?"

I continue, "Ulkesh asked me what I thought they intended me to do with my extended stay on the station. I told him I didn't care what they intended, what I had in fact done was fall in love with you, Kaitlyn. So, then the exalted one says, 'While the girl is indeed meant for you, does simply falling in love sound like a goal we would set?' and I said, 'I don't care one bit. It is what I have done. And all I intend to do, aside from also _marrying _her.' He gave me a warning about keeping open to possibilities, and hurled a few insults at me about being stubborn, obsessive and such. Many a time, in the past, I had collapsed to the floor sobbing. I presume he thought I'd be like that still, but I wasn't. I just told him to **_suck_** it."

She gasps, "OH goodness! You said **that **to a Vorlon?!"

I avow, "I will **not **be bossed around anymore. By **anyone**."

She still sounds worried,"Not even by Vorlons? It seems to me one has little choice in that."

I keep up the confident tone "Kosh was supportive, saying there was no rush for me to understand anything, that the Universe would do as it will, eventually. Of course, he said it with some weird poetry about water and stone, but it's what he meant. And he's the one who's here on the station. So, there's nothing Ulkesh could truly do."

She admonishes, "Well that is a good thing. Obviously you need to not be completely foolish, though!"

I admit, "I know. I know. Especially for your sake, my love. I must stay safe for **you**."

And with a smile she gushes, "Aww, that's **so sweet**!"

I turn onto my side and put my arm around her, "But it's true. I really want to be here for you, not annihilated or imprisoned or some other such fate that would leave you without me."

She enthuses, "Oh, **Sebastian**!"

And I do likewise, "Oh, **Kaitlyn**!"

Now I begin to kiss her- and before I think about what I am doing, I am atop her. She shows no sign of fear. And I am relieved to know I don't need her fear to feel desire. I just feel desire! Oh, YES I DO! Quite a bit of desire. I unfasten the top two buttons of her blouse, and then bite her neck a bit harder than I had earlier. She goes "Mmmm" instead of resisting, so I do it again.

I suddenly feel that I myself have way too much clothing on. Coat and waistcoat are quickly on the floor.

Feeling bolder, I quickly unfasten the rest of her buttons. Of course, she has quite the proper undergarments on. I won't get to kiss between her breasts unless I lift her corset-covering camisole up. I start to pull it out of her skirt's waistband. At that, alas, she flinches and says, "Oh, I don't know about this right now."

I feel a bit chastened, momentarily, and say, "This isn't the way for me to let you rest, is it?"

She retorts, "I would say not, my dear Sebastian!"

"Then, I will find something else to do, that will not make noise and disturb you- do you mind at all if I peruse your books here?"

"Not one bit, go right ahead."

Oh, goodness. Ruskin's 'Sesame and Lilies'... I gave a copy of that to Henrietta as a present when we married! Of course, the young lady is an artist and I should expect she'd be familiar with Ruskin's lectures, but still this coincidence is intriguing to me. There are many _other _Ruskin volumes she could have, after all! Though Kaitlyn is far less assertive, she has much in common with dear Henrietta. And I must say, when you anger Kaitlyn enough, she can hold her own! Henrietta would approve of her, and probably point out, the girl has plenty of time to become more self-assured, since the basic material is there. She'll be a spirited filly, as they say. But now that I know better than to let a woman know outright how much she can manipulate me, Kaitlyn won't take her strong-mindedness that little bit _too far_, as Henrietta sometimes did. That... that could be emasculating, whether I want to admit it or not. It isn't as if I wanted her under my thumb, but when you get to where you can't control your woman at all, well, people talk about you. And then you want to do things that make you feel more manly... even some very bad and wrong things...

Or, maybe they don't these days... things are indeed much different. Even so, Kaitlyn and I are not from this time, and I frankly don't want her to get the idea she should act like she is.

* * *

***Kaitlyn***

I've dozed off, and Sebastian has of course let me sleep. To say he isn't perfect would be an understatement, but at least he does care.

I sit up and see him sitting in a chair right next to me, reading.

Having apparently heard me move, he looks at me and puts the book down.

He fixes a rather suspicious gaze on me, and asks, "So, who was a man named 'Wayne Alexander' to you? You were just speaking very fondly of him, in your sleep."

Whoa. I was? Hmm... I remember dreaming briefly about both Sebastian and Lorien... and then... Babylon Park: Frightspace- which Wayne did voice work on- that was involved, too. Wayne definitely showed up in the dream, just as himself, also. It makes sense he'd be there, if I'm dreaming about these characters he played, and have been staring at a man who looks just like him for a day and a half now! But I don't know what I could have said to get Sebastian jealous! The dream wasn't, you know, like _that_! I- I don't think... And I doubt it would be with Lorien there! He's cool and mystical and great in that way, but in spite of the usefully extra-long fingers, I don't think of Lorien as sexy.

(And, when I think about it- the **real **Lorien- if he _is _real- being _**THE FIRST ONE **_of all, well, would he even have a penis? I mean, seriously? Would he? Is he technically even a "he"? Could there possibly be any meaningful way in which Lorien would be "male"? Quite possibly not! But... I digress too much...)

I realize I have no idea what I said, so I ask, "I was talking about... Wayne Alexander? Really?"

Sebastian smirks, "Well, at least you've confirmed I had the name correct! As I say, you sounded very fond of this man."

I respond as best I can- "I know I was dreaming. And he was there, but...so were you- and... other people. How fondly did I speak of him? What exactly did I say?"

He sighs, "Oh, it wasn't what you said, so much as the way you said it, I suppose. It was very... dreamy."

I laugh, "Dreamy? Well, that's because I was asleep! There you go. Question answered. Are we done here? I don't appreciate your tone!"

Now he begins to look and sound much more jealous, "So, you _hesitate to explain, do you_? And have a problem with my 'tone'? You realize that sounds all the _more _suspect, do you not?"

I feel a bit tense now, and say, "It would honestly be difficult to explain him to you. And you wouldn't understand why."

His eyes go wider, and there is a very heavy, tangible pause before he continues, "Oh it would be _difficult _now, really? How difficult can it be to explain what this man meant to you? Unless you have something to hide? And what _exactly _do you think I wouldn't _understand_?"

This is truly too much. Oh shit on a stick, this is ridiculous!

He's jealous of... well, in a way he's being jealous of himself! Maybe that isn't exactly true, but it's true enough. I roll my eyes, and shake my head in exasperation, "What I mean is- aside from the fact that, hello, it's the year 2259 and Wayne must be quite thoroughly dead by now, and so I don't get what this fuss is even _about_- well, hey- I just don't know what to tell you- and, frankly there isn't a very long story to tell- he was a man I became briefly acquainted with- so sure, there's that- but my actual encounters- oh, that sounds wrong- I mean, being with him, um, no, no, no... Why can't I phrase this so it doesn't sound like an affair? And it wasn't! It wasn't, I swear! You're just making me nervous, so I'm sounding that way! That's not what I meant by hard to understand! Oh my. Well... look: All you need to know is that he was an ACTOR."

Now his expression turns more to worry, "An actor? Oh! You should have said so in the first place! Say no more, say no more, you poor dear. I apologize! I mean it, sincerely. Now, if you truly liked the man, understand, I'm not saying actors are bad people, as others would do. I was acquainted with a few, and they wanted to live honest lives. I'm sure he was a kind-hearted person if you were interested in him, but the world they live in... well... You poor girl... actors. Oh my!"

I give a nervous laugh, and stammer all over, "Ha ha, he, uh, no, really, that's not- no really- it's not... I didn't, really I didn't, he didn't, WE didn't...and SHE would've- hmm.. no. That isn't what I meant, I swear!"

He looks into my eyes with great concern, and says, "Speak no more of it. I see how it confuses and distresses you. If you feel able to tell me at some later time, I will listen, but I cannot press you any further right now."

Well, good. Good that he won't press any further- but- unfortunately, I am feeling truly puzzled. How much is my mind starting to get confused between my original Universe's Samuel Barnett, Sebastian, Wayne Alexander, _and _lord knows how many of the _other _characters _he's _played or voiced? This is pretty mind-blowing stuff.

As I spend more time with him, I find I'm even noticing more physical similarities between Sebastian and the "real" Reverend Barnett than I'd thought there were at first! It's eerie. There is what I'd consider a fairly distinctive way the eyebrow area first curves _out_, then there is a dip- with a further indentation in the middle- which then curves _back _outward, though of course not as far, in the upper forehead. With their overall facial proportions, so much is similar. It's enough for them to be brothers! Wayne's- uh- I mean Sebastian's- eyes are lighter in _color_, but their similarity in every other way, which I'd noticed from the start, is just completely spot-on. I think it is Reverend Barnett's baldness that threw me off the full array of similarities. Or, that one photo from the 1870's with that big bushy beard. That is one goofy old beard. The facts that Sebastian is taller and bigger overall, has more hair, and has lighter colored eyes, are quite minor differences. OK, the size and hair are not minor as far as how much more attractive it makes him, but, you know what I mean... if you had them standing together here, "Samuel" and "Sebastian", you'd think they were brothers, with Sebastian just being the better-looking one.

But isn't it odd that I feel more spooked by the fact that Wayne Alexander- and ergo, Sebastian- truly did/does resemble Reverend Barnett, than by the fact that my reality is I'm here with Sebastian, and Sebastian is Jack the Ripper?

I'm sure that should be odd. Why don't I feel like it is?

"Now, as for that book, there," I begin to say, and he interjects, "I hope you don't mind I turned down the corner of the page I left off on. I left your marker in place, of course." I wave my hand, "Oh, that's not a problem, one dog-eared page. Heavens no."

He smiles wickedly and asks, "Do you feel rested enough to play a game?"

I'm definitely suspicious of this, "It's not called 'penis goes where?' is it?"

He laughs, "Oh, that _does _sound like a fun one, but no. Though the game I have in mind can go many places." He laughs more.

I reluctantly say, "So tell me what type of game it is."

He gives me a playful wink, "**Who are you**?"

I roll my eyes, "Oh goodness! THAT game? Do I have to?"

He taps his foot in mock-impatience, and motions me to come over to him, "I'm waiting, my dear. Who are you?"

I sigh, "Oh, honestly! Well, at least I already know several of the unacceptable answers."

Sebastian laughs, "I'm sure you do. But this is the **fun version**. Just give me any answer at all- I will not hurt you, _at least not yet_. So, Kaitlyn, who are you?"

I sigh more impatiently, and intone, "Not you."

He laughs quite heartily, "Ah! That's a good one! And technically correct, too."

I give a dubious look, "I don't suppose I won the game, though. Did I?"

He replies, "No. It isn't quite what I was looking for. Try again. Who are you?"

Suddenly thinking of the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland, I retort, "If you're so smart, why don't **you **tell **me**?"

He shakes his head, "Sorry, you're not Alice- or even Mabel. But I will give you a clue, if you turn around."

I do as he says, and stand with my back to him. I quickly remember my blouse is unbuttoned, as he slides it off my shoulders and down my arms!

"Oh! Oh my!" I gasp, "Oh Sebastian! I never buttoned my blouse back up!"

He laughs again, "Oh, really? I hadn't noticed." He gently caresses my shoulders and whispers in my ear, "You have very soft skin. Now, darling, put your hands behind your back."

I make sure I heard right, "Put my hands-"

"Behind your back, yes. That is what I said."

I turn my head around to see him removing his tie, and I ask, "Why?"

Softly, he says, "Because if you don't, I will grab them and tie them up anyway."

I comply; he ties my hands behind me; and then he asks, "So, does this tell you anything about who you are?"

I look down as he comes around in front of me, and simply say, "I don't know. I'm not sure I like this game."

He says, "Oh, poor little Kaitlyn. Why is this not fun for you? Here- watch- I will take **my **shirt off to make things more even."

I look at him, and he does remove his shirt. Of course, he has an undershirt on still. With sleeves. But short ones. And it is snug-fitting. And yes, he does have long, lean muscles. Much more aesthetically pleasing than the bulky type, if you ask me. He does look sexy right now.

However, I have second thoughts about my hands being tied behind my back like this. So, I point out, "It isn't very even for the one who is already smaller and not as strong to be the one who also has her hands tied."

"True," he says, "but I only said I'd make it _more _even, not _truly _even. It's not a fair game, I know. But that in itself is a clue to the solution. And, I will give you the next clue."

He reaches round me, unhooks the waistband on my skirt, and slides it down slightly. He's feeling around, taking down a petticoat now, and the other... the skirt and petticoats fall to my feet. Luckily my drawers stay up!

I'm indignant, with good reason, "Sebastian, all you're doing is taking my clothes off!"

He smirks, "Only to help you answer the question. Who are you?"

Oh, he's annoying me. "Who am I? I'm a woman standing here with a man taking her clothes off of her!"

He still teases me, "What man is doing that?"

A bit more irritated now, I shout, "YOU, obviously! YOU!"

He nods, "Yes. And now you are getting much closer to the answer. Let me help you out of this pool of fabric now, so you don't trip."

He puts an arm around my waist, and guides me a few steps, then lifts me up and says, "No, I'll just carry you to the bed. Because I can. And let me stress here, **because I can**."

Now he sits me down on the edge of the bed. I am keeping my knees very close together, let me tell you.

I inquire, "What if I ask you to stop playing this game?"

He asks back, "What if you do?"

I huff impatiently, "Would you STOP, then?"

He calmly tells me, "I might or might not," as he gets my boots and takes the laces out, then gets down and starts binding my ankles with them, "but you shouldn't have started playing if you don't want to finish. You were aware my intentions for you are far from innocent. I was already trying to take your clothes off before you took your nap!"

I exclaim, "And I objected then, too!"

He pauses, "Oh. I thought it merely because you were tired. I thought you'd be more... interested... after a rest."

I'm a bit stunned, "You thought I was ready to have sex with you?"

He gestures, "No, no! Of course not! But, there are other levels of 'adult fun' without sexual intercourse. And it can be very fun when a pretty lady is completely helpless- and in this case I do mean fun for you, too! And you are very, very helpless. The moment I tied your wrists, you were even more at my mercy than when I had you backed up against my wall earlier. Although, there were still things you could do- like try to kick me- which you'd have a time of now your ankles are bound, too- oh, you'd be in quite some trouble if I really wanted to harm you, wouldn't you?"

I reply, "I suppose so. Screaming in itself is probably futile as you pointed out then- but I forgot about the possibility of shouting for the computer to call security or something." (I don't think I want to call, though... I'm starting to get into this, now that I realize he isn't planning to actually rape me.)

He laughs, "Calling security would be a possibility, if I hadn't turned off the voice command. And I did. So it wouldn't come on accidentally while we were playing. You'd have to push the button- but- oh, you can't do that at the moment, can you?"

Oh, I'm... getting impatient with the attitude, though. "That wasn't even remotely fair of you."

He states, "When I play, I play to win, fair or not."

He sits down next to me, holds me close to him, and spells out my situation, "You are bound, you are alone with me, yelling for help will do no good- I could do anything I want. And so, given these circumstances, Kaitlyn, _**who are you**_?"

"I am at your mercy. I am..." Now it dawns on me, "Oh. I am yours. Is that it, Sebastian? **I am yours**."

Now he smiles, not wickedly- but proudly- "YES! YES! You got it correct! **YOU ARE MINE**, Kaitlyn! ALL MINE!"

I'm almost afraid to ask, but I do, "So, do I win?"

He beams, "Yes, you do! Which means we both win. And the prize is knowing how pleased I am with you."

As he wraps his arms around me, enthusing about how proud he is, and about how smart and clever I am, it does feel like a _bit _of a prize.

Still, there is something I'd like a bit more! "So, will you untie me now?"

"I suppose I should. But I don't want to. I want to play with you a little longer. And you belong to me. So what I say goes."

I give him some side-eye, "Now **who says **I actually **belong **to you?"

"I do. And you **agreed **with me a few moments ago!"

Should I point out I "agreed" only as the solution to his game? Is he even sane enough to understand that? Do I care, though?

Wow. I'm sure if Ivanova and Sheridan saw what was going on in here right now, they'd regret leaving me with him! Well, that's just too bad, folks. I'm allowed to "play" this type of game! They don't have to approve it.

"So," I ask, "what's next?"

"Spanking. Because you've been a naughty girl."

"Oh..." I'm not **so **scared, I guess. As long as he does only mean spanking, not whipping or caning. But, I do want to know, "when was I naughty?"

"Everyone's been naughty at some time! So, there's no need to specify." he says with a laugh. I might have known. Oh, he's so damn clever, isn't he? "Now," he goes on, "drawers up or down?"

"UP! LEAVE them UP!" I exclaim, as he maneuvers me ass up over his lap. At least his trousers are still on. Not that this prevents me from feeling a large erection pressing up against my stomach! And I feel my body react to this, in spite of how much I don't want to give him that type of satisfaction.

Smack! His hand comes down before I'm ready- for some reason I thought I'd get a warning. It's also harder than I expected, and I gasp a bit.

"That didn't really hurt, did it, sweetheart?" he laughs. "I tried to go easy on you. Honest." Whack! Oh my! That one was harder! One, two, three more about the same, then, whap! "Eee!" I squeal involuntarily. Whap! Whack! Wham! "Ohmigod! Uh!" I am... getting really aroused! Holy fuck! I'd always known I was a little into this, but the guys who tried it on me felt weird and didn't **commit **to it the way Sebastian's doing! "Mmmm... Oooo...wow." I murmur. He massages me for a bit, then rains down a few more solid blows. "Oooh!OoOo!" I can't help sounding so silly! He giggles, "Are you going to... oh, you might! You might! You really DO like this! But I don't like how much clothing you still have on. Let's take that stiff corset off."

It takes effort to lift me and get up at the same time, but he does- and then puts me on the bed. He lifts the corset cover up to my armpits, and unlaces and unhooks my corset.

Damn. What is the matter with me? Why am I not... saying something? Telling him this is far enough? Oh, I suppose what's the matter is I honestly enjoyed the spanking, and I do trust him not to truly, permanently harm me. It's all about power and order, not sadism, per se. (Even in the murders, he killed as quickly as he could. Yes, that was in part about not getting caught, but he could as easily have taken them to a more secluded place and tortured them, if he just wanted to be a sadist.) And I've already demonstrated quite well how much obedience he can get from me without causing me any physical pain. So, at least for now, if he delights in giving me only as much pain as the proper _discipline _entails, I know I can handle it. Even... yes... like it...

"Oh! You are even better than I imagined!" he says, looking over me, my breasts now exposed. "But maybe you're a bit too cold!" Another little silly giggle from him.

"I... am... a bit." I say breathlessly. He nods, "I'm sure you are also quite aroused, as am I- but- this is indeed a bit TOO tempting." He slides the camisole back down, so my breasts are covered again. "There. You are still covered, but no doubt more comfortable without those stiff stays." he says, adding. "Not that I'd know. I've never actually worn a corset." I tell him, "It's comfortable enough, until you do something... strenuous." He leans down and kisses me, then asks, "Was it really strenuous, my poor dear? Do you want to take another nap? **With me**? I'll even untie you first." I say OK. He unties me, then removes his shoes and trousers, and pulls the covers down so I can get in the bed. Then he joins me.

It really does feel good to cuddle up with him under the covers. His arms feel strong and protective. Warm, close, and yes, loving. My bottom is only a little sore. The after effects are not nearly as bad as I'd thought they would be while that spanking was still going on.

I guess that was a pretty good game after all.


	8. So, let's have dinner

***Sebastian***

It truly is wonderful being here in bed with Kaitlyn, holding her. I most definitely wanted to hold her and comfort her after the little game I played with her. Take a nap... I couldn't think of anything else to _say _that would get her in bed with me, without her fearing I would molest her further. So, yes, let's take a nap... oh, but it worked. That is what counts.

She feels so soft, so small- it emphasizes to me how much she needs me. A space station full of alien races and 23rd century technology is an extremely dangerous place for a 19th century lady to be by herself. She needs _someone's _protection; and if it is to be mine, I cannot act like an idiot and fail her! Of course, the problem with this is: what little sanity I had before the Vorlons took me just isn't there any more. It is terrible to realize that I wanted her to fear me, even for a second. One should not have to fear one's protector. I am fully aware it is wrong of me to want to frighten or pressure a delicate lady who is depending on me. At least I **know **I'm insane, but it doesn't make it any better to be so. I wish I could be more stable for this sweet girl. I do have such terrible nervous problems. I try trusting that God and the Universe know what they are doing in giving her over to my care. But I'm not so sure. I'm not sure at all. Trusting in God too much caused some problems for me in the past, to say the least. And... problems for other people as well. Again, to say the least!

As for our game, it doesn't seem that I harmed Kaitlyn... playing with her... she seemed to like it, somewhat. I know she was a little too afraid at first- but soon enough, she understood what was going on and had fun with it. A bit more fun than she expected, I believe. If I take time and care, we will have much pleasure and excitement together. I must always remember she is not a stout and sturdy girl like Miss Kelly was, though. While I am the farthest from sleep right now, dear Kaitlyn has drifted off. Her breathing is soft and slowly rhythmic. Even more confirmation that she is delicate- I clearly have tired her. I feel as though I am a demon from Hell, and she is an angel accidentally fallen from Heaven. She absolutely looks like an angel, peacefully nestled against me. An angel...

And, now I ponder her views on religion... for most people, I suppose that would be a strange thing to be thinking at a time like this. I am in bed with her, nearly naked. But- for a lady who once wanted to become a Nun, Kaitlyn doesn't talk much about religion. Although I was once a Vicar, I should probably not speak of religion. I have committed murder in the name of religious morality, and had this used against me in a rather cruel way. Even if I deserved it, making me an Inquisitor was still a cruel thing. At least I think it was. But as for Kaitlyn- I wonder what could have happened such that this once-devout girl rarely speaks of God or Jesus Christ? Surely she still loves Jesus, if not God the father. Jesus is not vengeful the way God is. When I first shared breakfast with Kaitlyn yesterday, and she asked me why I didn't say a prayer before we ate, I thought she truly was concerned at the lack of prayer! What it must have been, though, was a test to see if I truly was the man she suspected I was, Reverend Samuel Barnett! But how could I have known at the time that this was her aim? I didn't know an American would recognize my face from media coverage. And I hadn't yet realized the extent of the signals I must have relayed to her from the Vorlons while she was sleeping in her cryostasis unit.

Kaitlyn suddenly wakes and interrupts my silent musings, "Hey, uh, I really have to get up now, 'cause I have to, um, pee."

"Of course, dear." I say, letting go of her, feeling almost reluctant to- though I wouldn't like the consequences if I don't! The words and situation are clearly not romantic, but never let it be said she isn't charming anyway. She looks adorable rushing over to the restroom.

A few minutes later, she comes back out, and I ask her, "Are you hungry? I think I could stand a meal soon."

She says, "You certainly do think about food a lot! But I suppose it wouldn't hurt for you to put on a little weight- seeing you out of that suit, I'd say you are even thinner than Way- uh- wha- what- yes- WHAT I'd... call... ideal."

I smirk, "Good cover, there. Quick thinking. You almost said that man's name again."

She sighs and looks away, "Yes, but... if you knew... how much you remind me of him, you'd know why I keep thinking of him while I'm here with you."

I nod, "I see. So, what do I have in common with this man?"

She sighs again, but looks at me now, "You look almost exactly like him. Or, maybe _exactly_, exactly like him!"

"Oh, but apparently thinner," I laugh, "as you so kindly observed. Not a way to make a man feel manly. But yes, I'd say I've lost a full stone over the years, even with all that time in stasis, thanks to the awful food." I take her in my arms again, and ask, "My dear girl, why did you not say earlier how much I resemble this old flame of yours?"

She turns away a bit, "He was not an 'old flame' as you have put it. His... significant other... would have objected to a relationship between us!"

I speak as soothingly as possible, "Well, my dear, clearly there was something... but whatever he was or wasn't, I believe I understand much more of your reluctance to speak of him, simply by having heard of this resemblance now. You see, dear Kaitlyn, you yourself greatly resemble a younger Henrietta. You say you've seen pictures of her- did you not notice this?"

She shakes her head, "Oh, I wouldn't say I do. And I'd never say I'm as pretty as she was- have you seen my nose? Surely you have? You keep calling me beautiful, and maybe I shouldn't dispute since many others among both men and women have also, but... I don't understand how they can say that with this... HUGE NOSE!"

I gently kiss the tip of said nose, and say, "It is NOT huge. It is a 'Roman nose' as they say, and it perfectly suits you, and your ethnicity. And I still say you resemble Henrietta, albeit with a different nose. Surely I do not look _exactly _like Mr. Alexander, even though you say I do. Something must differ. Aside from my being too slim, which is easily remedied!"

She sighs, "Oh, there's no physical difference between you and him that can't be 'easily remedied', like, OK, sure- you are pale, but you just need to get some sun. Oh, maybe one thing. Your hair is darker, I would say. But that's it. And the hair, you could simply bleach it out a bit. So, I mean what I say. You look exactly like him. _Exactly_. You just do."

I think a minute, "That is odd, then. Though I've sometimes heard everyone has a double, I never took it so literally. Well, if you say so. But still, you should have told me sooner."

She shakes her head, "No, no, I shouldn't have- first, as I keep trying to tell you, it's not what it sounds like-and two, you won't like the next thing I'm going to tell you: That he played you on the show."

I try not to over-react. She is at least beginning to acknowledge how silly her ideas sound. I simply reply, "Ah. I see. Well, we will work on this." Then I think, "Say, why don't we look the show up on the computer?"

She shrugs, "Why don't we? Goodness, we should've done that already!"

I reactivate voice command, and ask the computer about Kaitlyn's favorite TV show. "Computer, give me information on a 20th century television show, called 'Babylon 5'." And the computer responds, "No information available. No such television program found. Would you like information on this space station instead?" I laugh, "Ah, no thank you, as I am already HERE, I don't think that will help much." I turn to Kaitlyn, and see she seems slightly disappointed, but not very surprised. She says, "Computer give me information on a 20th century TV show, Star Trek." The computer replies, "Star Trek: a 1960's science-fiction show, set on the Starship Enterprise, in the 23rd century, which spun off several movies, as well as additional television series such as, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine-" Kaitlyn then says, "Computer, stop. Cancel request." She sighs, and looks at me, "Well, at least Star Trek was a real show. I remember that, too."

I shrug, "But so do I. In fact, I watched it frequently during free time when I was awake over the years. Those are some good shows. I'm also a fan of the X-Files, Battlestar Galactica, oh, Twilight Zone- and yes, the Outer Limits! I can't forget that one-" Kaitlyn looks somehow sad as I list the old TV shows I like. I ask her, "Are these all shows you know of? I'm sorry if it bothers you that I know them too. I am sorry if what you thought you knew yesterday has been proven untrue today. But I cannot help any of this. What is true, is true. You received knowledge of life after 1888 through the thoughts of others."

She just _sighs _at me.

"Well, is there anything else you'd like to look up?" I ask.

She quickly says, "Computer, information on 20th century actor, Wayne Alexander- born in California, active from the late 1980's to, um, I don't know- at least 2000 I'm sure." And the computer responds, "No exact match. The most well-known person of this name in the approximate time period is a British boxer active in the 2000's." She shakes her head, "I doubt it's him. But let's see the file- he did a great British accent and did do fight _choreography_... and... and that's a picture of a black guy. Wayne did tan nicely, but that's definitely not him! Uh, no. What other Wayne Alexanders do you have? Anytime in the 20th century at all? Anywhere?" Next the computer says, "Wayne Alexander, Carpenter-" Kaitlyn interjects, "He did carpentry as a hobby! And-" but the computer continues, "-born 1903-" and she literally growls, "Arrggh! No! That's WAY the hell too OLD! Is that ALL YOU HAVE?" The computer continues, "Wayne Alexander, Accountant, Capetown, South Africa-"

"NEXT!"

"Wayne Alexander, Optometrist- Brisbane-"

"Next"

"Wayne Alexander- Cattle Rancher- Butte, Montana-"

And it goes on like this, listing what Kaitlyn feels are completely improbable occupations, locations, or ages for almost two dozen Wayne Alexanders. And then the list for the 20th century is complete.

Now, I simply request, "Computer, information on a _19th Century _California actor named Wayne Alexander, please." Lo and behold, there is a match, and when the headshot appears, Kaitlyn seems utterly surprised, exclaiming,"That's HIM!" And I notice immediately the man very much does look like me! In fact, "very much" is an understatement. Kaitlyn was not exaggerating the resemblance as I thought she must be. _**This actor could be my twin**_.

Kaitlyn seems both excited and confused, as she enthuses. "Computer, show more pictures- open the file- show everything on this man, please!" In addition to credits for shows and plays he has appeared in, we see pictures of him at sci-fi conventions, and some of these do show him with fans. Upon seeing one where he is enthusiastically embracing a familiar-looking petite woman, Kaitlyn says, "OH! That's ME!"

She gasps and tries to close the picture quickly, but I grab her hand and stop her. "Why, yes, that IS you, isn't it?" Blushing, she says, "I- I don't remember. I have no recollection of this particular convention, obviously, as it does not appear to be taking place in the year 1999! Nor do any of these other pictures appear to be from the right time!"

I look closely, "Heavens, look at your dress, Kaitlyn! It's rather low-cut, don't you think? You are dressed a bit immodestly." She looks away, "Only a bit, though! You do see how some of the other women are dressed!" I teasingly say, "Oh, how could I not notice? Especially such healthily stout and fleshy girls! Not skinny like you!"

She looks at me indignantly, "Excuse me? Skinny? I thought you believed me quite ideal!" I sigh, "Oh, I am merely teasing. I didn't like to be reminded of how much more spare I am these days. It's a 'man' thing, I suppose. But, even if you are ideal- and you are- I'd say going out to dinner wouldn't hurt _you_, either. I think we should do so."

She is intent on the screen, studying pictures of Mr. Alexander- "Look at this one- it says it's a picture of him playing the 'Inquisitor' in an episode of 'Far Space 4!' Which means he played an Inquisitor, but on a show I never heard of." I tell her, "Well, that's close enough that I could see where you got confused, though. So, the character is in some ways like me, but it isn't me. What harm does that do you? None. And the photographs show you were there in the 19th century." She says, "I don't like being as wrong as it appears I am. I suppose on this note, I will take you up on that dinner offer. Maybe. If I _have _to go out..."

I say, "Oh, my dear, I thought we really should try eating in a restaurant. I want to treat you to something better than cheesy spoo and doughnuts."

And she gives me that doubtful, shy look, "Don't forget the fried chicken, which was perfectly fine. If you went and got more of that I could eat it again."

"You don't want to go out?" I try not to sound too disappointed, but maybe a bit persuasive.

She says, "I don't know." She definitely sounds unsure in tone as well. I don't blame her for feeling very shy after what happened with Ivanova and Sheridan. I will try to reassure her. "If anyone gives us trouble, I will handle it. You only had a problem with Sheridan because I wasn't here to defend you." She looks ready to dispute the point, then decides not to. I remind her, "As an Inquisitor- aside from one person, Delenn- my job was dealing with nothing but arrogant, insufferable blowhards- and yes, I DO include many of our Vorlon friends in that! It is no disgrace for you, a gentle young lady, to have difficulty handling so pompous an ass as Sheridan."

She exclaims,"Oh! I don't know that I'd call Sheridan that!" as if I were accusing her of saying it. I laugh, and tell her, "Well, I would, and I did."

Next she tells me, "I don't really know any restaurants on the station. I think I've heard of a place called Earhart's, but I think it's for staff only." I nod, "Indeed, that is not an option then. Well, I presume you'd like to go somewhere quiet, but a bit on the casual side, so it won't cause much anxiety?"

"Um, wherever, whatever..." she says, noncommittally, while crunching on a few Orange Puffs.

"So... surprise you? Don't go anywhere, and just stand here eating candy?"

"Oh... you have something in mind I think, so just, you know, let's go there. I don't know where anything is. You like to remind me of that- but now you want me to have an opinion?" Hmm, she has a point. I say, "Well, I recall seeing a lovely place just a bit past the Zocalo area, that I honestly think you'll love. Or at least like. Perhaps you will merely tolerate it, if it is not authentic enough, but I am absolutely certain you will not hate it outright." She laughs gently, "Oh, don't make it sound so enticing. I **almost **want to go there now."

I giggle at her. I can't believe how much I'm doing that- it's... girlish... but... well, it must be due to how adorable and girlish my little Kaitlyn is.

I take her in my arms, and whisper to her, "I suppose the worst thing about going out is that we will have to put our clothes back on." Now she giggles- and blushes. Then she notes, "We are a bit under-dressed, considering you have not technically proposed marriage."

I think for a moment, "I suppose I haven't... well... you do want to marry me, don't you?" She nods, "Yes, yes I do." And so, I propose, "Very well then- Kaitlyn, will you marry me?" She says, "Yes, I will marry you." And I kiss her.

"So, very good then! We will go out to celebrate our official engagement!"

"I suppose that does make me feel a bit more like going out!"

We rush to get our clothing back on, and go out... I think Kaitlyn will be pleasantly surprised to see what I've found for her.

"Oh, look! The Intergalactic House of Pancakes! How did you know?"

How sweetly amusing! But... "That's not where we're going, Kaitlyn."

She pouts a bit, "But I love pancakes."

I guide her to turn slightly, "You'll still love them tomorrow- look there, across the hallway- that is where we are going tonight."

"Oh MY! It's called 'Sredna Evropa'? I never imagined such a thing would be on this station, but it DOES sound like my type of place!" Good. She seems delighted!

And now I will let _her _be the expert, as I hint, "I don't know what it means, but it looked Hungarian or something-"

And she shines at this opportunity to teach me for once, "Like Middle Europe? MittelEuropa? That's exactly what it means. And it should focus on the region's **Slavic **cultures, I'd say."

I ask, "And you can tell me what dishes you think are good? Aside from Chicken Paprikash, which I already know you fancy. And which you will see," we are now by the menu displayed at front, "they definitely serve here." She smiles, "Oh, I see! Oh, Sebastian, you are wonderful!" She embraces me. I do feel very much the genius, even though all I did was walk by this place and notice it! And remember that she mentioned this "paprikash", also.

We walk into the restaurant, and the hostess says it will be ten to fifteen minutes for a table.

Kaitlyn nods that this is fine, and it doesn't seem long to me, either, so we tell her we'll wait.

Now, who do we see eating here but Commander Ivanova and Captain Sheridan. Maybe I shouldn't be terribly surprised- it isn't a Russian theme, but it's related. And though their table is a bit in a corner, it's easily within earshot, as we step over a few feet to the right. Kaitlyn looks worried, "Oh, no! We picked the worst time-" I say, "Relax, we won't be sitting with them! We'll be perfectly all right. Shhh- let's hear what they're talking about." She whispers, "Oh, of course." and is quiet.

Sheridan says, "I just can't believe Susan, you of all people-"

She cuts him off, "Hey, if he'd walked back in and said to her, 'You dumb bitch why'd you let him in here?' OK, he wouldn't be that obvious, I know, but if he'd given any indication he blamed her for your presence, I'd have said, 'Look, this girl is staying in MY quarters until further notice and Vorlons or no Vorlons, I'll post a security detail to see you don't get near her!' Yeah, I'd have done a lot more if he'd seemed even the slightest bit _angry with her_. But he wasn't even really angry with me, let alone her. Just saw **me **as inconvenient, I think. Like, a meddling woman letting her motherly instincts get out of hand or whatever. _YOU'RE _the only one he was really mad at, John."

Sheridan looks doubtful, "Abusive men like that can hide their intentions in public. You know that. Then once the door's closed, he'll scream at her and beat the shit out of her."

Ivanova glares, "If you _**really **_thought he was going to do that, why didn't you stand there after the door closed and _**listen **_to see if it _**sounded like **_he was screaming at and beating her? Or if you thought that maybe he'd anticipate this; _**gone back **_after several minutes to listen. But you didn't. You followed me right out of there, and didn't check back. If you _**really **_thought he was about to abuse her, I'd have to say you behaved irresponsibly by not listening in to find out."

He looks down and makes a grumpy face, "Damn. Why do you have to have a good point that shows the flaw in my outrage?"

She looks self-satisfied, "Because I always do. And not just _your _outrage, either. There's plenty to go around here lately."

I tell Kaitlyn to stay in place and wait for our table, that I'll just be a moment. Meanwhile I step quietly toward Ivanova and Sheridan. They are not noticing me at all.

They eat a couple bites, then Sheridan says, "But he did threaten YOU."

Ivanova laughs, "He did that just to piss YOU off! Couldn't you tell? He stole a couple glances your way while he said it, to see if it was working."

Sheridan nods, "And it certainly worked. Wow. Hmmm, he sure doesn't like me, does he?"

I announce, "You are correct, Captain Sheridan. I certainly _don't _like you."

They turn and look at me, shocked. Sheridan asks, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Standing here? Only a few moments, but I'd been listening from the waiting area there. And Commander Ivanova is correct, too- I wasn't angry with her- she is a woman, after all."

Ivanova gives me a nasty look, "What's that supposed to mean?"

I give my mock-surprise face, "What? Oh, only what you _yourself _said- a woman feels motherly toward those younger or smaller. It's only natural."

Sheridan chimes in, oh so pleasantly, "Hey, it's also natural for a real man to want to protect a young girl like her from what a man like **you **wants to do with her!"

I say, indignantly, "A man like _**me **_wants to marry her, Captain. And she isn't so terribly young-"

I think a moment here. They don't believe she's as old as she is- I can scarce believe it myself. A reasonable-seeming lie here will make me sound better to them than a hard-to-believe truth! I glance at Kaitlyn- 17 seems good. It would've been _legal _for me. It's an even ten years off her true age, and should thereby be easy to remember if I have to say it again. I pray dear Kaitlyn will forgive me for what I am about to say, and continue, "She is seventeen years old, above the age of consent in my day, which was sixteen. I am happy to accept my Christian duty in **saving **this girl. Even though she has let a couple boys her age seduce her, she feels remorse in her pure little heart, and agrees that a respectable **marriage **to a man like me is **exactly **what she needs to prevent her from falling into a life of sin. Now- as for myself, and what type of man I am, I know I've committed... crimes, but nothing I've done makes me a child molester. Kaitlyn is of a perfectly marriageable age, and we are indeed engaged to be married now. And that is all I have to say to the two of you. Have a good meal."

I know Kaitlyn can hear most of what I'm saying- and it isn't polite of me to be telling these two her story, even if it is highly modified. But our circumstances are so extraordinary, I need to make decisions I don't like.

I go back to Kaitlyn and apologize. She seems understanding about it. Oh, I love her so much!

Soon, a waitress leads us to a table, hands us menus, and I let Kaitlyn tell me all about the wondrous dishes on it. She happily orders her chicken paprikash and talks me into some thing I can't pronounce. She says they've spelled it wrong. I wouldn't know, but the description does at least sound appealing. For drinks, Kaitlyn orders her good-girl soda, while the waitress recommends a dark beer that she says will go great with my meal. I eagerly accept the recommendation. Drinking alcohol is not itself a vice. And as long as the Vorlons are buying, I will drink!

"These dumplings could be better, but at least it's the more southern variant without all the sour cream," says Kaitlyn. I just nod and keep eating. This is delicious. Real food. Real, honest, freshly prepared food with ingredients from the gardens! This is even better than real snack food, or candy- and at least a million times better than some gloppy Vorlon-made "essential nutrient paste". Ugh. Kaitlyn has no idea, and I am quite happy that she is so naive that she can sit there and nit-pick the intricacies of what makes one dish of paprikash better than another. If she were wolfing her food down without thought or complaint, I would know she must have suffered- either gone hungry, or been subject to the same flavorless fare I have. I do not want to imagine her going through such things. I want to believe everything in her life was care-free. And that it will continue to be so. This, of course, is but fantasy. She has suffered, in her own ways. I do not know them all yet, but I know they existed. In hopes that things will be more good than bad from here on, I tell her, "Oh, my sweet, though I find my meal quite delightful in every way, I find your critique most interesting." She smiles, and talks of the ethnic desserts she used to make, especially a thing called po-teet-sa. Ah, now she spells it, p-o-t-i-c-a. Interesting. Basically a rolled pastry with filling. "Oh, I so would love to bake one again some time soon! I hope I can!" I smile, and say, "I hope so, too, for I would love to partake of it!"

As we eat, I notice a bar and club area getting ready to open for the evening, off to the side. I see what looks to be a small dance floor. I am tempted by the thought of a much stronger drink than what I have. I tell Kaitlyn I'd like to stop in the bar for a few minutes when we finish; that I think something stronger will calm my nerves more. She looks doubtful, but says we can do so, as long as I don't get completely drunk. I tell her I of course know when to stop, and she agrees to try it out.

The man at the entryway is intrigued by our attire. "Hey, those are some great old time costumes. But it's not Halloween, so, why you wearing them? Nothing wrong with it, just wondering."

"We are historical re-enactors." and seeing the way he looks at Kaitlyn, I add, "Kaitlyn here is my fiancee- we are to be married soon."

"Really? Married, huh? Well, she looks awfully young to me, so I'm going to need to see her card before she can enter the bar here." Oh. Perhaps I misinterpreted his scrutiny of her. Why does everyone seem to believe she is so young? Smaller than average women must still exist, I am sure!

Kaitlyn hands the man her card and he scans it with his machine. He gives me a strange look. Similar to one which Sheridan gave me earlier. "Uh, sir, hope you got her folks' permission for the marriage- her Identicard says she's seventeen years old. Damn, man. She's not even _grown_! Anyway, that part ain't my business, but she definitely can't come in here."

Well, this is not good. Kaitlyn remarks, "But, that can't be! I'm twenty-seven! The Vor- um- someone must have made an error!" Goodness, she drank only soda, and still almost let slip that the Vorlons made the card. The man scans the card again, gives us both a dubious look, and says, "You can try elsewhere, but... unless there's something wrong with our machine, she's 17." I ask, "Are- are you sure?" The man laughs, "Well, if you're so confident the young lady isn't lying, I can check what age yours says. See if the machine's screwing up. I of course didn't card you, because I'm pretty sure you're well past twenty-one." He laughs very gratuitously at that last part. He scans my card and asks, "So, is forty-four correct, gramps?" I roll my eyes, and confirm it is correct. This man has to be around thirty-five himself. He has no business calling me "gramps".

I take my card back, and tell Kaitlyn to grab hers, too.

Kaitlyn _whines_, "But I'm not a kid! I'm not a kid!" and I exclaim, "Drop it, **now**, Kaitlyn! We are **leaving**!" as I take her hand and lead her away.

A man who was on his way in to the bar follows us, winks, and says, "Yeah, that's the way to treat 'em, history man! Teach that girl who's boss! You really do have the Victorian thing down!"

"It is entirely none of your business!" I snarl at him. He laughs as he says, "Hey, I wasn't criticizing, my good man. I like history better than today for sure! Wish I was dedicated enough to do what you guys do- sounds great, being a re-enactor. Anyway, I heard how it all went down over there- and I know a bar I can get you both into- the owner's my friend- and you might like the folks there, better, too. We all like history, in a way. In fact it's called 'The Good Old Days', and while it's mostly decorated with 20th and 21st century artifacts, there's older ones too."

Kaitlyn brightens, "Ooh! A history-themed bar! Let's go! Let's go, Sebastian!"

I really want that damn drink now, so I say, "Very well, my lady and I shall go with you, kind sir- if you can assure me it is a place safe for a lady, that is." I realize that, while I do know the layout of everything from the station map, none of this tells me what type of area it is.

The man assures us it's safe, and we follow him, but I'm on the lookout for anything suspicious, and keep a secure hold on Kaitlyn's arm. If I could handcuff her to me... hmmm... no, it would attract a bit too much attention in public! I don't even have a pair, unfortunately... If the "manacles" I used on Delenn aren't in fairly close proximity to the stick device, all they are is bracelets.

"So," the man asks, "where did you find such an obedient girl in this day and age? Or is that part of the 'act' for you two?"

"I'm not obedient. I have a terrible attitude!" says Kaitlyn.

"Don't be so critical of yourself. You are a very good girl." I tell her, and continue, to him, "She really is. She's very well-behaved."

She says, "I'm not being critical of myself. I'm not 'obedient' in general. Only to you. I wouldn't do what some strange man tells me. I'm not a pushover. No way!"

I assure her, "I don't want you to obey a strange man. I'm the only person you need to listen to. You are indeed mostly obedient toward me. That is all that counts as far as I'm concerned."

She just rolls her eyes and tosses her head in a way that I am sure she thinks looks very defiant.

In a tone cheery enough I'm sure he's already had a bit to drink, the man asks, "I take it by the accent that you, my fine fellow, are from Britain?"

Not the most astounding observation, but accurate. "Yes. I've lived mostly in London, in fact."

Now his over-enthusiasm confirms his tipsy state, "**Ooooh**, home of Jack the **Ripper**, eh?"

His tone is far too casual for me to think this is an accusation, and I see no reason for it to be, so I play along. "Yes, it certainly was. Indeed it was- and- well, I've played him on occasion. It's what I did most recently, hence the fancy black suit."

Kaitlyn starts, "Sebastian- should you really-"

"Tell him what we like to role play? Why shouldn't I?"

Oh, does our new friend laugh now, "Yeah, honey- it's not like I'm going to think he really could be Jack! Wow, how funny she is! I bet playing the Ripper helps you keep her in line, though, huh? 'Better behave, woman, or I'll Whitechapel ye!' Ha ha!"

I laugh, and Kaitlyn is indignant, "Don't laugh, Sebastian! You tell me not to joke about the murders, but you let some strange man do it! That is **so **not fair."

I give her a stern look, "Kaitlyn, stop it. I laugh when I want to. I'm a full-grown man."

She does not look happy. She surely feels outnumbered. "But you are treating me like a child, when you know I am a full-grown woman!"

I counter, "But I don't know that, truly, do I? All I know is what I have been told about you."

The man laughs off our banter, then asks, "If you're Jack, though- well, let's just say your girl here isn't dressed like a whore."

I say, "She isn't one. She's my wife."

He looks quite intrigued now, "Wife in that context, too? So... you play a... specific suspect then?"

I hesitate a bit, and equivocate, "Yes. One who isn't always considered. But I think that's all I should say for now."

He says, "Suit yourself. But I really would like to live in that time. No space aliens trying to boss humans around! That part alone would be worth, like, dying of smallpox or something."

I laugh, "Oh! Yes, the lack of _**meddlesome aliens **_was the best part of it! Aside from women looking and acting **like women**!"

The man says, "Yeah, if more women today realized they'll **never **be men..."

"Amen to that!" I declare.

Kaitlyn makes an annoyed huff.

I say, "But, you are **NOT **a man, Kaitlyn! And well and good it is that you are not! I speak not only of areas where men are better- think of the areas where women are far superior, such as raising children! Women in general exhibit better moral behavior, are not as quick to anger, not as violent. Why, even that Commander Ivanova clearly has some womanly instincts-"

The man cuts in, "Oh, Ivanova! Wow, there's a harpy. Worse than my ex-wife!"

I laugh, and Kaitlyn looks upset. I say to her, "Don't tell me you still like the woman after what she did today!"

"What did she do?"

I shrug it off, "Oh, it was just meddling, that's all. No point in getting into it. She saw us in the gardens on her break this morning, and took an interest in Kaitlyn, for some reason."

He gives a hearty laugh, "Well, that's probably because the woman's a big bull dyke!"

Well, there's a realisation. "Do you mean she's a... lesbian? Oh, my. Thank you for telling me. I hadn't realized it could be that sort of interest."

Kaitlyn laughs, "Oh, so now that suddenly **isn't **your big fantasy?"

I shrug, "Well, sometimes it's more worrisome if it looks like it could be reality."

She gives a rather naughty laugh, "So! You think I'd let her seduce me?"

I warn, "You might not know she's doing it at first. She might seem to just be giving friendly affection. Even women who don't know each other will do that, as I'm sure you know."

Now she just shakes her head and laughs.

I tell her, "Hey, I've had _men _who are that way come onto me just because I'm interested in art and things that are aesthetically pleasing! You think they just share your interests, then all of a sudden- they're trying to kiss you or grab you! It's disgusting!"

Kaitlyn snort-laughs, "Of course. Woman kisses woman, it's hot fantasy. Man kisses man, it's disgusting. I don't think the modern world agrees with you, Sebastian. I think they're just fine with either one, aren't they Mr., um, say, what is your name?"

"I forgot to introduce myself, didn't I? My name is Stuart Starr. No, really, it is. Ha ha! Doesn't it sound space-y? Yeah! Well, anyway, if you mean the all-inclusive, alien-loving, gender-isn't-real, all-religions-are-equally-valid world, sure. But there are more Earthers who agree with your fiance than you apparently know, kid."

I laugh smugly, "See, Kaitlyn? I may be older than you, but I'm not as out of step as you think!"

Kaitlyn grumbles, "If Octavia Hill could hear you right now! I can only imagine how angry she'd be!"

I laugh, "Of course you 'can only imagine' it- she's been dead for centuries! But, what I imagine is, she'd be disappointed to learn how much like all the other men I really am. That deep down, I do not share as many of her views as I've said I do."

Kaitlyn says, "You certainly have been more sexist in **deeds **than in words!"

I laugh, "OH, but **all **the male social reform activists were like that when it came to the rights of ladies- and of the other races, as well. Do as I say, not as I do! You know that, my dear. See, we are **human**." Kaitlyn just rolls her eyes.

Our new friend remarks that he's heard of Octavia Hill, but can't quite remember what she did. I inform him that she was a social reformer, mention the school she ran, and a few other things. Kaitlyn opines **again **about how angry Ms. Hill would get with my sexist behavior; but luckily, now we are at the bar, and I have a better excuse to tell her to be quiet, while our new friend talks to someone to let us both in. I can't have her raving about how I am letting feminists down right now!

But as soon as we are in, she starts up again! "I know what you were worried about, Reverend! You were afraid reform would be taken over entirely by women! And we'd be weak and just give everything away, instead of making people work!" I laugh nervously, especially at her mention of **my title**, and say to her, "Dear, this is NOT 1888! Please! We are not giving a tour or a show right now! DO QUIET YOURSELF or I will DO IT FOR YOU!" She turns away, but does shut up. Well, she's certainly speaking of our time rather than 1999 right **now**! I suppose I should be careful what I wish for.

I tell our new friends to excuse us a moment, then take her aside so I can correct her without embarrassing her too much.

"Kaitlyn, I am pleased to have a woman with her own opinions. That is a valuable thing, truly. I want you to think for yourself- however, there is a difference between expressing an opinion and being openly, brazenly defiant. If you defy me again like this _**in public**_, I may have to correct you further when I get you alone, do you understand? I will not be so commonly vulgar as to _beat _you, of course, but I do have the right to apply _discipline _when the subject needs it, whether it is a servant who has misbehaved- or my _wife_. Now tell me you understand me." She very quietly and sullenly says "Yes." I press, "Yes, what?" She rolls her eyes and says, "Yes, I understand." I take her in my arms, and whisper in her ear, "You _'understand'? _That is good- but what I meant was, for you to call me 'Sir' when I correct you from now on. So that I know you realize the gravity of the situation. So, your answer should have been, 'Yes, **Sir'**. You don't need to address me thus all the time, but when you've been bad, **I will expect it**." I loosen my hold, and ask, "Now, do you understand what I've just told you?" She casts her eyes downward, as she replies, "Yes... Sir." Now I smile, kiss her forehead, and tell her "Very good, my darling."

As we rejoin Mr. Starr and his friend, I try to sound light-hearted in explanation, "You see, she is a very excitable girl, and very enthusiastic about our work. She can get into character at some odd times- but I have brought her back to the present." He says, "Hey, she's young. Just to have a job and be serious about it is pretty mature, whatever else she does. I think we can excuse her." Kaitlyn says, "Why thank you. That is kind of you to say." She gives me a "Ha!" kind of look. Yes, yes, I get the point...

A man takes to the stage area, introducing himself as "DJ DeepSpace" stating his intent to "play the best old-time music in the Universe," and encouraging the crowd to "drink up and dance!" They are of course eager to comply. I cannot say I enjoy much of the music. Most of it is from the 2100s, I think. As for post 1880's music, the twentieth century is not bad, but I'm not a great enthusiast of much past 2050. Kaitlyn does not seem especially impressed, either.

"And, now," says the tunesmith, "a big hit from the '40's- the 2140's! Yes, it's 'Mars Colony Girl'! Oh, yeah! That song you love to hate!"

A familiar, but hated, song now plays. "OH, she's not from the stars, she just from Mars, Oo-oo, oo-oo-oo!"

Kaitlyn has the strangest look on her face. "I've... heard this song." she states, plainly.

Our friend laughs, "Everyone has heard it! I can't believe it's such an old song and they play it on the vids so often. Usually with a modern band, not this original version, but still, it's amazing."

Next, DJ DeepSpace announces, "Hey, folks, it's Karaoke time! Yeah!"

This should be fun... I have an idea...


	9. The one with lots of songs

OK, disclaimery-ness: I only own the song lyrics I wrote, and those I am not proud of! The other famous songs I clearly don't own. And I still don't own any Babylon 5 or even Babylon Park!

No money's being made, so don't complain, eh?

* * *

*****Kaitlyn*****

Should I be surprised that Sebastian believes he has legitimate authority over me? No.

He is a Victorian-era man, who held positions of real authority in London, leading both a church congregation and a settlement house for college-age (male of course) artsy types.

However much he allowed Henrietta her autonomy, (which probably wasn't always- in the Victorian Era this meant a different thing than in the late 20th century) I am not Henrietta. I am new, so he can start fresh. I should not be surprised he wants to seize that opportunity. How could I possibly be surprised at that when on day one we basically both agreed to his being in charge of me? That I wasn't thinking long-term is, well, just too bad for me, I suppose.

Next question: Should it surprise me that he wants me to behave myself and be less serious at the same time?

Not really. I already know he'd contradict himself constantly. Oh well. _Quelle surprise, eh?_ Pardon my French.

He came from a very conservative background where his father totally bossed his mother around. He didn't like to see this. But he internalized it. He tried to be different, but the apple can only fall so far from the tree. He tried to roll away from that tree, but he couldn't roll too far, even if he really wanted to. Or something like that.

The truth of the time and place he is from is he could be worse as far as the idea of discipline goes. A wife was considered a man's property, after all. Most men believed they had every right to discipline their wives. He at least feels he shouldn't actually "beat" me, but how far will he go?

He can't be judged by the standards of the 20th century; and neither of us can be judged by those of the 23rd.

Obviously his whole "Ripper" thing is terribly wrong in most any century, but most of his behavior, demeanor, and opinions are either the norm or _progressive _for Victorian England.

Henrietta wrote about him disciplining the servants. And just what does one make of a phrase like "Everyone he hit loved him"? She mentioned it in the context of verbal correction, but that phrasing does not sound like that is all she means... and freely mentioning that he would physically hit servants...

Yeah. Just pray, I guess...

In other matters, I have noticed something very strange about this bar. Everyone here is human. _**Everyone**_. Every last sentient. You would think at least a few aliens would be interested in Earth history. Lennier, for one. I know he is. He sure can't be the only one. Something is odd here.

But in spite of any misgivings, I had a vodka shot. What can I say? It was Russian. If they let me drink in spite of my supposed age, and Sebastian is already tipsy, I may as well go for it. I am certainly not leaving this place by myself. If it is a known human-supremacist place, and an angry (perhaps justifiably, but still not good) alien sees me alone and vulnerable... No thanks. And drunk people can be a terrible drag to be around when sober. So if I am here, I will drink. In moderation. I am having a plain Coke, right now.

They charge my drinks to Sebastian's card. Mine says I'm 17, a kid. They tell me the transaction wouldn't go through. Even for non-alcoholic drinks, they don't dare run my card, as it would prove they let me in here.

An adult can buy unlimited drinks. Automatic limits would prevent buying a round for your buddies.

Why Stu has decided to become our buddy so fast I can only figure must be that he considers us at least a bit sympathetic to Earth First or the Home Guard or whatever it's called... I am sure he'd like to win over anyone he can.

Sebastian has had far more to drink than I, certainly. Especially since he already started drinking alcohol back at the restaurant.

We try to dance. Neither of us like the song on now. And we don't know the latest moves, to say the least. We're doing a fast semi-waltz to some song about how Earth girls are hotter and sexier than Minbari, Narns, etc...

"Oh, a Narn girl? Who wants to love a lizard?

Hey, hells no, I'd rather eat a gizzard."

You know, some people LIKE giblets! But I digress. I notice the song can't be even twenty years old, if it mentions the Minbari. The verse about them says,

"Minbari girls are pale and cold hearted.

They always look at ya like ya just farted."

I don't know, you sound like a sexist, racist fart to me, jerk. I'd look at you that way too! Maybe these "history-loving" folks just like this song because what they really are is a bunch of anti-alien bigots.

I think this song is truly supposed to be in circa 2000 style, as I hear the words of the refrain...

"OOh, Earth girls- Got the best body-

Earth girls- They rock the party

Earth girls are bringin' it

All the shorties singin' it"

But, hey- dancing to awful music can be fun. You don't care how stupidly or inappropriately you dance to it.

"Come now, Kaitlyn, move a bit more! This is the 23rd century! Get your hips into it!" He's laughing loudly, drunkenly.

I shout back, "We are waltzing! You don't really 'get your hips' into a waltz!" At this, he says "Then let us do a different dance," slides his arm down, around said hips, and pulls me toward him clumsily, such that I trip and almost fall. I squeal a bit, and he loosens his hold so I can right myself. Now we stand here just looking at each other, laughing.

We step away from the dance floor for a bit.

We both have another drink. Peach brandy sounds good to me.

I look into his eyes and get serious a moment, "Sebastian, why do you want me to do unladylike things? I thought you valued women behaving like ladies."

"If we ever are to go back to Earth," he replies, "we will essentially have to live as criminals, since we do not officially exist." We briefly discussed _something_ like this yesterday, and I didn't like it then.

I feel nervous now, "If that's what it means, I don't think I want to go back. I don't want to be on the run all my life."

He nods, looking relieved, "I only thought you might want to go back, as you have never consciously known another planet. I don't need to go there, myself. I know I certainly couldn't get my old job back! Why, I don't even know if St. Jude's and Toynbee Hall exist now. But I know if they do, I can't just walk in and say, 'Hello, I'm Reverend Barnett! Remember me? I'm back!' No, that won't work."

Now I pause, think, and giggle.

He asks, "Is it truly that funny?"

I say, "Oh, I pictured it for a second, then I pictured us dressed as lawless pirates, sailing the seas, then I realized pirates these days must have very fancy airships... and then I LOL'ed." He looks at me and laughs too.

Then I ask, "So, since you've been to different planets, where would you prefer to live?"

It takes him but a moment to answer, "Minbar. It is similar to Earth, but cleaner. Much cleaner."

"But if you haven't been back to Earth since 1888, it might be nicer than it used to be. And the countryside was always nice where I lived, nearby."

"Ah, yes, indeed, bucolic settings were always pleasant. I can assure you they are few and far between, now. Too many people. Why do you think humans had to go to Mars and space? The Minbari population has instead declined, though. Its the reason, well, one reason they let humans join the Anla'shok, um, that is, the Rangers."

Smiling, I let him know, "I actually recognize that word, thank you."

He smirks, "Of course you do."

I say, "But a bit of unladylike behavior won't kill us. Perhaps I should just shake it after all."

He replies, "Oh yes, you certainly should!"

I bend forward and shake my butt for a few seconds, and Sebastian then says, "Oh, oh my! Perhaps you shouldn't! That's more than unladylike- it's quite unseemly, now I think of it. Dear God, that was something, though. Very much something... arousing."

Hmm... it aroused him! We can't have that! Whatever, man. I've got a lot of clothes on, too! A long wool skirt is not exactly booty shorts.

He says, "Oh, goodness was that arousing, Kaitlyn!" and proceeds to embrace and kiss me. Seriously? _In public?_

Tell me I'm being unladylike, then engage in a public display of affection?

Whatever.

_Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose..._ Again, pardon my French...

I think we are both drunk.

No.

I **know **we are both drunk.

It is thus fitting when, in an effort to please us with something "more truly historical", Mr. Starr persuades DJ Deepspace to play "To Anachreon in Heaven" because the notes say it's an "old English drinking song".

Soon after that, DJ DeepSpace announces that it is Karaoke night, and that is what's coming up now.

A young woman goes first, singing a ballad about Earth; how it's the best planet because it's our home, nothing can compare; so far so good, but also that Humans are superior to all other races, and always will be. The chorus prominently features the words,

"Earth will rise again, oh Earth is rising above". Charming.

"Oh, Earth, it is my home.

I love it best, no matter where I roam.

No other planet can compare.

I only live to breathe my Earth's air."

This was a top hit during the Earth-Minbari war, the DJ now says. This woman gets very loud cheers, even though her voice is of below average quality. She isn't especially attractive, either. Not ugly, but like her voice, her looks are below average. Not that I'm criticizing her- I'm just looking for a reason for the loud cheers other than bigotry! She isn't even dressed in a sexy or flashy way. So, the loud cheers have got to be about the song's subject matter. Or maybe she's everyone's best friend. Maybe these folks know her, and she's popular for her great personality and intelligence. This is surely possible, but I'm leaning toward the more cynical explanation.

The next participant is more typical of what I think of in karaoke. He just sings a "party and have fun" song. His voice and movements are appropriate for that type of song. People cheer. He's not super-hot, either. Not cheers as loud as for the racist woman, but still pretty loud.

The third one up is a very pretty woman, whom the DJ says will sing a song of true historic interest. It is a comic song from 2061, about the return of Halley's Comet! It's actually a bit interesting.

I ask Sebastian if he ever heard it. "Not that I recall." I know nothing of it either. So he says, "Good. Something neither of us know."

And she's not a bad singer, either. I'm hoping the crowd will go wild... but no. Even with great looks and the bonus of some actual talent, the cheers don't measure up to the first. Oh, yeah. These folks are Earth First racists all right.

To my surprise, Sebastian decides to give a try now, telling me he is going to have a laugh. He is going to "troll them like it's 2009". If I didn't know he was drunk before, I know now.

He says, "Computer, Play 'Rick Astley- Never Gonna Give You Up'."

He starts singing those well-known words,

"We're no strangers to love.

You know the rules and so do I.

A full commitment's what I'm thinking of.

You wouldn't get this from any other guy.

I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling.

Gotta make you understand.

Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down!

Never gonna run around and desert you!

Never gonna say goodbye.

Never gonna make you cry!

Never gonna tell you lies and hurt you!

OOooOOooh, never gonna give, never gonna give... "

Yes, he is rickrolling them. I am surprised at the extent of his 2000's era internet knowledge. They don't seem to like it. They don't boo, or act rude. They just seem meh. It is quite possible they don't "get it".

But I also know a few tricks, to say the least. I will save the day! You want a troll? I'll give you a troll!

I jump up on the stage, and interrupt him with a shout, **"COMPUTER! REBECCA BLACK- FRIDAY!" **I get a puzzled reaction to my brazen move, as Sebastian stops in surprise and the music switches to my song. ...

"Seven AM waking up in the morning.

Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs.

Gotta have my bowl, gotta have cereal..."

Hmm... not sure what they think. They nod a bit, a few dance.

Well, here comes the refrain.

"It's Friday, Friday!

Gotta get down on Friday!

Everybody's looking forward to the weekend, weekend!"

Enthusiasm builds. They are so into it. This is amazing!

"7:45 we're drivin' on the highway.

Cruisin' so fast, I want time to fly!

Fun, fun, think about fun.

You know what it is.

I got this, you got this!"

I don't think they really knew the song when I started it. But it is clear now they enjoy it, the crowd joining in for the second refrain,

"Partying, partying, yeah!

Partying, partying, yeah!"

Goodness. It seems I am a hit, and I didn't even have to hate on aliens!

So, yes they like racist stuff, but that isn't all they like.

Not that this means I will befriend them. But if am marrying the Ripper, I might as well look for good in all.

Four more karaokes. Two of them are racist. Then it's quiet for a second, until I walk over by an old jukebox, maybe 1960's vintage.

It immediately starts playing "California Dreamin" by the Mamas & the Papas.

"All the leaves are brown

And the sky is gray.

I've been for a walk

On a winter's day.

I'd be safe and warm

If I was in L.A.

California Dreamin'

On such a winter's day..."

Like, that's so weird, dude.

And even weirder when I'm told the thing not only doesn't work- it _couldn't _work. It is not plugged in, as it would now take a hard to find adapter. They ordered one from Earth, but it will be a few more months before it arrives.

Sebastian makes another one of his pointlessly jealous remarks to me about You Know Who. This time pointing out the man was from California, so how odd it is that this was the song that played. "I didn't do anything but walk past it!" I scream. He sulks. He frowns. But he does acknowledge after a few minutes that I am correct!

It attracted even more attention to us than we were already getting, though.

And now, aside from Sebastian, one other man won't stop looking at me lasciviously.

I try to ignore him for a while, but the smiles get progressively more leering.

Sebastian seems as oblivious to this man as he is to the rest of the people, since he will not take his eyes off me. When the man catches my eye again, I look as angry as I can. I hold onto Sebastian's arm, and lean on him. I try to be as obviously unavailable as I can without starting a make out session.

Sebastian of course takes it as a cue to start that session himself. At least the leering man is looking elsewhere now. Guess it's too arousing, eh?

But when I have to use the ladies' room, Sebastian can't exactly go in there with me.

I am on the lookout, and don't think I see the man when I exit. Maybe the make-out got him to give up.

But suddenly I feel a hand on my butt. Grabbing it. Hard. And it is clearly not Sebastian- for I see him in front of me now conversing with Mr. Starr again.

I shriek, _**"Someone's grabbing my butt!"**_

Sebastian turns, and when I point to the culprit, he punches the man, very hard. The butt-grabber falls right into another man sitting at a nearby table. The table is upset, though not fully upended. Still, drinks and snacks fall over, spill, and end up on clothing, and on the floor. I hear various shouts of profanities.

Well.

There might be trouble now. Everyone looks either angry or surprised.

Others at the table start shouting. And the bouncer is coming toward us. "That man grabbed Kaitlyn! He grabbed her backside!" Sebastian shouts. "Yes he did he did!" I shriek. The bouncer asks butt-grabber if this is true, and the man admits he did, with the excuse of _needing_ to find out if it was all real. The bouncer says, "Well, then you are BOTH in trouble, boys. I am calling Security."

Then butt-grabber pleads, "No, come on, don't do that!"

"And why not?" asks the bouncer.

"There's a warrant out for me, but its just drugs is all! Just drugs! So can't you be cool, you know?"

"Not now, you idiot. I'd be aiding and abetting. Sorry. I am definitely calling."

So, the man starts to run, and bumps into me. I fall. As soon as Sebastian ascertains that I am fine, he pursues the man. "You hurt my fiancee, you fiend!" Oh no. He is furious now. Sebastian tackles and starts pummeling him. A much larger man tries to pull them apart, but is no match for drunken insanity. He gets knocked into another table, and now the two men at that table, the butt-grabber, Sebastian, and the man who tried to intervene are all fighting, punching, kicking. Screams erupt from all over, and a few more men join the melee.

The bouncer _very definitely_ calls security.

I hear the call very well, because I've been brought behind the bar for my protection.

"Yeah this is Phil at Good Ol' Days- we've got a disturbance here."

Garibaldi asks, "And you can't handle it? Your clientele is all human, isn't it?"

A laugh, "Hey, we don't say they can't come in, those aliens, they just don't like it here so much, they got other places to go, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know. Well, anyway, I do see and hear some of the ruckus in the background now. Yeah, it's pretty bad. I'll send a couple guys. Garibaldi out."

Two men arrive.

I wondered a bit if at least one woman might show up, but I guess a call for a bar brawl is still men's work.

Their name tags say Wood and Peters, the type of not-so-exciting names one often finds in bit parts. I know this is real life, but I'm just sayin'...

Wood is taller than Peters. Peters is stocky in build. Both have dark brown hair, and light brown complexions- the way I'd often heard most humans _would _look by now. Wood is half-bald and has a very large nose and beady eyes. He's probably over 40, also. Peters is not much taller than me, but he has a full head of hair, and is on the handsome side. I think he's rather young, about the age I thought I was... mid to late 20's.

With a few shouts, a blow of a whistle, and the brandishing of PPGs, they halt the fighting quickly.

Now that it is calm, I run back over to Sebastian. "Oh, my darling! Are you hurt?" His right cheek and both hands are a bit scraped, and his lower lip is bleeding a bit. I kiss it delicately. He does not flinch with any pain, even kissing me back much harder. "I've had worse, dear. I am fine."

Peters notices us, and becomes very angry at the idea Sebastian and I appear to be a couple.

Peters scowls and growls, "Should she even BE here? She looks like a kid! You messing with a 16-year old here or what, man?"

With a nervous laugh, Sebastian replies, "Oh, no! Not at all! You'll notice it says she's 17 if you scan her identicard!"

Peters grabs him, "OH? Then she's still a kid, and that means it isn't funny! Got it? It isn't funny! None of this is humorous in the least!"

At being grabbed, Sebastian reflexively goes for his knife- and in a moment Peters is stunned to be the one being held, with the knife at his throat. Sebastian growls, "It is unwise to just grab someone! You don't know how they might react!"

And I am scared to death.

As is Peters, now. He's muttering, "Uh... um..."

The mysterious jukebox suddenly rings out a quick guitar riff I think I recognize...

Oh. My. No. Way.

Oh, but it is.

It's Judas Priest...

"You're in for a surprise

You're in for a shock

On London-town streets

When there's darkness and fog

When you least expect me

When you turn your back-

I'll attack!"

Wood stays remarkably calm, especially given this latest musical development, "Now, sir, please- I know it wasn't wise for my partner to grab you like that, but you need to let go of him."

Sebastian laughs, "Oh, do I now? I suppose I _will_ let go, as I believe he has learned his lesson. Do not grab people unnecessarily. Do you understand that, Mr.," he looks down and reads, "Peters?"

"Uh huh. Yes I do."

And Sebastian smiles and lets go. "I am very sorry, my good man, but it was a natural reaction. Now do behave yourself." Then he says to me, "See, Kaitlyn? I don't need any fancy weaponry. Just my good old knife."

Now Wood says, "But if you use it again, we DO have PPGs."

Sebastian concedes, "Ah, this is true. But, Come now, don't spoil my fun!"

Peters says, "I don't know what your usual kind of fun is, but I know you don't want to do anything foolish. I know you don't want to get yourself shot."

Sebastian laughs, wickedly, "Mr. Peters, I would venture to say you don't know JACK about me- see, if I had actually intended to do it, I'd have strangled you first. It is faster, and cleaner. Less suffering, less mess."

Peters says, "oh, yeah? We are still going to take you in, though. Whether you were going to cut me or not, it's assaulting an officer. That's serious, and I'm serious. You hear me?"

Sebastian laughs at him, "I will only surrender to the Chief of Security himself, Mr. Garibaldi. The notorious Jack the Ripper cannot be hauled in by some underling who is so stupid as to grab an already agitated man who has been drinking!"

Oh shit. Now Sebastian is openly talking about being Jack? Maybe to play up the idea he is insane? Dangerous? Or is it the music making him so brazen?

"I'm sly and I'm shameless,

Nocturnal and nameless,

Except for the Ripper,

or if you like,

Jack the Knife!"

Peters starts to grumble about being called stupid, but Wood stops him. He then points out to Sebastian, "Sir, you are not being arrested for the Ripper murders. Those took place almost 400 years ago. Clearly, you are not the perpetrator, no matter how talented and knowledgeable a historical re-enactor you are. You are being arrested for a bar brawl, and now also for assaulting an officer and resisting arrest."

Sebastian sighs, irritated, "What do I have to do to get some respect here? I do not want to harm anyone, really. I was never in it for a mere thrill."

"Oh, hear my warning!

Never turn your back

On the Ripper!

The Ripper!"

I really do wish he'd shut up right now. He isn't helping himself. Since I care about him, I am worried it will escalate.

It would be really nice if I could do some type of spell to get everyone to just leave us alone...

But I haven't been involved in that level of magic...

I talk to cats, who seem to understand me. Sometimes it seems I'm starting to communicate with them telepathically.

I see astrals while conscious and not in astral myself.

Other than that, nothing.

I am enough of a beginner, that it usually doesn't cross my mind to try anything.

So, in spite of the idea of what a "witch" is in all the storybooks, all I can do is just TRY to send sensible thoughts in his direction.

Sure. Ha ha.

As I ponder this, Wood simply announces "OK, Sir. It won't hurt us to see if Garibaldi will come. I'll call him."

Peters is angry. "You let this asshole win?"

"I am not too proud to ask for help, Peters. That's all we're doing. Not letting anyone win or lose. It isn't a game or contest. Not to me."

Wood gets on his comlink, "This is Wood, yeah, look, I've got a special request for you, Mr. Garibaldi- to make a personal appearance."

Annoyance on the other end, "You know we're busy, man."

A plea, "But this guy is really insa- uh- insistent."

A laugh, "As opposed to the other, more sanely intolerant patrons there?"

A more pleading plea, "You don't understand. He says he'll only surrender to the chief- says he's too important, you see- now get this- he says he is Jack the Ripper!"

Stunned silence for a few seconds, then, "Look, I respect you, but what do you mean, exactly? He is... pretending to be Jack? How so? Just saying it? He's dressed in a Victorian suit or what?"

A sigh, "Yes, there is that. He also believes he actually is the real historical Ripper! And I think it might be true. I've never met anyone like this. He's...just really different. And weird things are happening here. I think he really is Jack!"

Oh, this is an abrupt change from what he said a minute ago! But with that jukebox, I'm not completely shocked!

And Garibaldi seems a bit unconvinced, "Ohhhh-Kaaayyy... uh... really? The real original one? The nineteenth century one? He thinks that? And _you _think that?"

Wood sounds more urgent now, "Yes, yes, sir. I do. He had officer Peters held at knifepoint a minute ago."

A sigh from Garibaldi, "A minute ago? And what about now?"

Wood admits, "He let him go when the girl asked him to."

A more mirthless laugh, "Of course there's a girl. Well, it sounds like the situation, although strange, is under control. So, what's the problem? Do you just need me to come down there and personally remove Jack the Ripper from the premises? Is that it?"

As dignified as possible, Wood says, "That's exactly it."

And another sigh, "Well, that is about typical lately. Fine. Zack and I will be there in a few. Garibaldi out."

Peters and Wood have apprehended and cuffed the other brawlers. Sebastian sits calmly, but making a point of holding his knife in plain view of all. None dare approach him, except me.

Soon, Zack and Garibaldi show up.

Sebastian smiles as he greets them, "Ah, Mr. Allan and Mr. Garibaldi! How nice to see the professionals arrive."

They arrest Sebastian- who smiles and waves at them. Then they ask more questions, find out I'm supposedly 17, and call in reinforcements to arrest many more people.

Garibaldi reprimands Peters for acting rashly, says he'd honestly have reacted much like Sebastian did. "You're lucky this is just some nut who's a little too much into Victorian-era crime stuff. If you'd done that to a Special Ops guy, you'd be dead."

Peters pleads, "But I have a little sister about that girl's age. And she ran off with some 40 year old like him. To Mars. Now she's on Mars, pregnant by a man as old as our dad, and-"

Garibaldi tries to sound understanding, but can't help rolling his eyes, "Hey, you got my sympathy, but this ain't your sister, and this is a different man, different situation. You need to keep hold of yourself. Everyone has stuff in their life."

Garibaldi then looks at Sebastian and asks, "How do you know who I am when I've never seen you? You supposed to be from the Victorian Psi-Corps or something?"

Sebastian laughs, "I don't know who you are, Mr. Garibaldi- even you yourself might not know THAT- I only know your name, rank, what you look like, and other information a man on a mission such as mine needed to know about command staff."

Garibaldi asks, "Mission? What the hell are you talking about?"

Sebastian's laugh has certainly become less menacing; more drunk, "OH! Now don't try to tell me Captain Sheridan hasn't mentioned me! I happen to know I'm the talk of C & C! The name is Sebastian. You must have heard it."

Garibaldi fake-gasps a bit, "Oh! THAT Sebastian! Of course! Uh, no. Sorry. All I know is you've been involved in a disturbance and held a knife to Officer Peters' throat."

I can't tell if he really doesn't know, or if he's playing with Sebastian's ego.

Sebastian looks crestfallen, though, "The- the Inquisitor? You- you- heard about that? Yes?"

Now a nod, "OK, that sounds familiar. You had some meeting with Delenn in Gray 19. I hear things got a little weird and the Captain had to intervene. But within an hour or so everything was OK again, so it really wasn't my business. Yeah. Sorry, but this little Narn- Centauri interplanetary conflict spilling over into riots on the station thing had me a bit pre-occupied to remember every detail of the Ambassador's agenda. No offense."

Sebastian is quite annoyed now. "It was more than a meeting! It was an important test, crucial to the fate of the Universe as we know it!"

Garibaldi shrugs, "Maybe, but it was three days ago! Trust me, remembering your name hasn't been high in my priorities."

I look around and see that everyone else is absolutely frozen and silent. I'm sure they don't want to mess with someone who can be that drunk and still move that fast. Or with Zack and Garibaldi, of course.

Zack realizes Sebastian is still brandishing the knife, and says, "Say, Mr. Sebastian, It's nice that you are concerned with the fate of the Universe and all. And if you know the Captain and Ambassador Delenn, we'll talk to them about any charges we file. But- we do need to bring you in. So can you drop the knife, now?"

Sebastian looks very worried. "It- it has sentimental value- could you kindly let me just put it back away, please?"

Zack does that little cute head-tilt thing, "Ah, not really. Policy and all. Gotta disarm the suspect. Plus, weapons are not technically allowed on the station-"

"Unless ceremonial, or for use in cultural or historical display!" Sebastian adds.

Zack nods, "Yes, but even those are under restrictions, and still are to be confiscated if used _as _weapons. Sorry, but that's how it goes."

I offer to hold onto it, but the security men say no.

Sebastian asks, "Will I get it back? You have no idea how important it is."

Garibaldi says, "Then maybe you shouldn't have pulled it on one of my guys."

With a sad sigh, Sebastian says, "The kind and handsome gentleman there- Mr. Allan- I will hand it to him. Not you, Mr. Garibaldi. I had hopes, but you are as pompous as Captain Sheridan!"

Garibaldi shrugs, "Whatever, then. Zack? It's all yours, bud."

Zack says, "Hey, having a gracious manner pays sometimes, y'know? Well, OK, Mr. Sebastian, hand it over, then. If everything goes well, you will get it back later."

On the way to the security place, Sebastian tells them how we are indeed from the past, preserved by Vorlons, etc. I don't know if he's giving away anything he shouldn't, but he's too drunk to care if he is.

Garibaldi says, "Yes, the Captain did tell us a few things about it, but like I said, there've been lots of other things going on. I mean, it's fascinating that you two are from the past. Don't get me wrong on that. It's a pretty big revelation that the Vorlons have been to Earth and abducted people like that. Hell yeah. But this is a very busy station. When I have duties I have to do, I have to do them, y'know? Can't just chit-chat about Vorlons and Inquisitors."

Sebastian seems even more offended, if that is possible. He really needs to feel important right now! Wow!

I think he has come to terms with being just another human pawn to the Vorlons, but he still _needs _fellow humans to treat him as an authority.

They put Sebastian in a holding cell. I am not under arrest.

"Technically," says Garibaldi, "drinking while underage is illegal, but we don't give more than a warning for a first offense. If you took illegal drugs, it'd be different. But, alcohol, it's perfectly legal for those old enough. So, here's your warning- Don't do it again 'til you're old enough. And if you do, for God's sake don't do it in public. There."

Hoping I seem remorseful enough, I ask, "How old is 'old enough' in this century?"

"Twenty-four." he replies.

I must look very surprised, for he adds, "The average human life span now is almost a hundred years past that, so it's not the way it probably sounds to you."

I inform him, "19th century people didn't all die off at 50 or 60. Infant mortality and death in childbirth skewed the averages."

He nods, "Fair enough. That would make a difference. But our average is still an age no one reached in your day. So, there were 90 year olds even though your average was in the 50's. OK. But who lived to 118 back then? No one. And that's average now."

I certainly don't want to argue, so I just say, "Very well, then. That's good to know." And then I shut up.

Zack smiles at me, and says, "Aw, c'mon Chief! Talking about average life expectancy? Talk about a downer subject. Nah, she needs cheered up a little. She already knows everything's different! Feeling all out of place like that is what's getting her sad and upset."

I smile back at him, and say, "Thank you Zack."

Garibaldi gives me a look, "Isn't calling a man you just met by his first name a bit forward for a Victorian girl?"

Zack laughs, "Really? It's the only thing she's heard **you** call me! Are you being 'forward' with me Chief?"

And now I laugh.

I know it's the first moment I've laughed or even seemed remotely comfortable since they arrived on the scene. And they are perceptive enough to notice.

So, Garibaldi lets Zack talk to me while he goes off to monitor things, and write up the bar incident.

We sit at a table within earshot of Sebastian's holding cell.

"So, what are we going to do with you, Miss? Your guy there's not going anywhere else for the rest of the night. He needs to sleep it off. We can talk for a while. Maybe I could get you some coffee or soda? The coffee's fresh ground, which is a rare thing around here. But I'd let you have a cup. And did I tell you how pretty that outfit is? You don't see 'em like that any more- did you make it yourself?"

I know I'm blushing. Zack really is cute, and he seems interested in me. "Make this outfit? Don't be silly, it's a very tailored suit. Way past my skill level. I had it made for me! And I like soda, yes. I don't always like coffee. Only sometimes. I appreciate the gesture, but I wouldn't want to deprive someone who would honestly enjoy it. I'll take Soda, if you don't have tea."

Zack smiles, "Tea? Oh, of course you can have tea! And keep up that smile, it's so radiant. Uh… how do you like your tea?"

Sebastian shouts, "You'd better have plenty of cream and sugar, Mr. Allan! She is a LADY! Real ladies like cream and sugar!"

Zack and I both laugh at this outburst. "You'll have to excuse him," I say. "He definitely drank more than I did. I suppose unsweetened tea is for men and whores? Well, anyway, I do prefer milk or cream and sugar."

I start to feel guilty. Zack started the flirting, but I'm continuing it. But I can't help it. I sure did drink quite a bit myself.

He comes back with my tea, and says, "I worry about you being all alone on this big station tonight."

I point out, "I was alone last night, too."

"Well, that was before we knew you were even here, let alone so pretty-uh- young- I meant so young, because, ah, you're pretty young, yeah."

From the other side of the room, Garibaldi reminds him, "Zack, she sure **is** young. Only seventeen. I know she's pretty, but keep it professional, man."

Zack laughs too giddily, "Oh, of course, Chief. I can keep my wits about me. Don't worry."

Sebastian now calls out, "Mr. Allan, she is my woman! Don't flirt with my woman, you cad!"

Garibaldi shouts back, "I won't allow them to do anything anyway, so just shut up!"

Zack and I talk about mostly frivolous things for a while.

But it soon enough goes bad...

It doesn't matter how cute Zack is.

I honestly do love Sebastian. And I think he's plenty cute enough, too. I don't want him to be in a cell. I want to be with him. How do I know they really will release him tomorrow? I'm worried. I need him near me. He needs _me_ near him even more, I think. Even as I realize how difficult it will be to keep him off me for yet another day; and how much easier his being locked up will make that; I still can't stand to see him alone in a cell, wanting so much to touch and hold me.

I beg them to let him go.

"The offenses are not so awful that he can't be bailed out, are they?"

Garibaldi sighs, and explains, "OK, since he voluntarily let go of Peters, and was provoked to begin with, we dropped the assault of an officer charge. The fight itself was started in defense of your honor. That would've been absolutely justifiable in the Victorian era, so we also dropped the basic assault. So- you've got your more general drunk and disorderly, and resisting arrest. Around here that's fairly minor stuff, but we have a policy about folks as drunk as he is. He has to dry out before he's released."

I say, "Whatever. Do you have any idea how much money the Vorlons put on my identicard? Wouldn't, say, 50,000 credits be a good addition to the security budget? I could give you that and not miss it."

Zack actually seems offended, "Yeah, yeah, your identicard has a lot of funds on it! Know what that is, Kaitlyn? Know what you're trying to do now? This is bribery, kid. We don't work that way. It's dishonest. He's staying in that cell 'til he dries out and that's that."

Next thing I know, I've hit Zack! Oh shit! Why did I do that? I guess because I'm drunk and very upset, but damn does he seem angry with me now! "Look, little girl, we've been nice. But you just went too far! You don't hit someone who's trying to be nice to you! You've been bad. You knew you were underage to drink when you went in that bar! Have fun with your man, then. You're going in the cell **with** him! How's THAT?"

What? Oh! He's opened the cell door, shoved me in and locked it again!

OK, so now Sebastian and I are _together_ in a holding cell. That's better, right?

Sebastian laughs, as Zack and Garibaldi walk away, "Well, Kaitlyn, I'd say you are drunk!"

I stomp, "Sebastian, you are definitely drunk, too!"

He embraces me and holds me close to him, "Not TOO drunk, though, am I? I am drunk, yes, but not TOO drunk."

I roll my eyes as I look up at him, "You got into a bar brawl! How exactly are you not TOO drunk?"

He pulls me more tightly to him, runs his hands over me, "Mmmmm... I will tell you, my delicious darling! I am EXACTLY not too drunk to FUCK you!" I have my doubts about this, but I do not voice them.

I hear someone running back over toward us, as Sebastian continues on about how hard and passionately he could do this fucking.

I hear Garibaldi's voice cut in. He swiftly approaches the cell and shouts, "HEY! HEY! WHOA THERE! You two are definitely not fucking in there!

I will DOUBLY ARREST the BOTH of you and put you out an airlock!"

Sebastian finds this hilarious, while I find it embarrassing. Dear goddess!

"Just you two sit quietly, you hear me? No making out! Just sit and behave yourselves! Dear GOD, I can't believe I have two VICTORIANS; and one a VICAR no less, trying to do the nasty! HOW do these things HAPPEN on this station?"

Sebastian laughs, and says, "Well, the Vorlons are responsible for our presence! Go rant at Kosh about it! You'll have fun, I tell you! Vorlons LOVE being yelled at."

Sebastian keeps running his hands over me, and kisses me, as though we are sitting alone in one of our rooms! I try to pull away, and remind him there's an audience. Not just Zack and Garibaldi, but other folks in other holding cells, some of whom are now making catcalls at us.

Sebastian seems to **just now notice this**, when I point it out. He tells me I am correct, and he stops.

He says it will be boring to just sit, though, and starts singing "To Anachreon in Heaven". Oh, why the fuck not? I join in, but I'm still wasted enough even I can't make all the notes, let alone him. Then he seems to forget what we're singing, and soon we're just randomly, uncoordinatedly going "la la la, oo oo oo..." It sounds absolutely awful, but we don't care.

Zack is starting to feel guilty.

"Hey, chief? I want to get Kaitlyn back out of there, I think. He's too drunk. He might hurt her or something."

Garibaldi is in a mood now, "Well, too bad, Zack! You arrested her, and she is a minor! You know what that means. If you're concerned at what he might do to her while his judgment's impaired, we can move her to her own cell. But to release her, well..."

Zack tosses his head back and sighs, "She needs released to the custody of an adult, yeah. So tell you what- release her to MY custody."

Garibaldi gives a rude snicker, "You are definitely not her guardian."

"But guess what-" Zack seems to have realized something, "she doesn't have _**any**_ family alive. That would automatically make her an emancipated minor, right? Then she doesn't require an adult to release her to at all."

An affirming nod, "True. I hadn't thought of that. But it's only because she's from another century. In her time she had parents. And I can't believe you're this close to needing a cold shower over her."

Zack pleads, "So are you saying you don't trust me, boss? I'm trustworthy. I'd drop her off to her room by midnight and go back to my own. I promise."

"Maybe instead, I should book you for child endangerment, for putting her in the cell with a drunk, and then book myself on the same charge for letting it happen. Then we'll all be locked up. It'll be a big ol' jailhouse party then." Says Garibaldi snidely.

Zack laughs uncomfortably, "So funny chief."

Then Garibaldi exhales audibly and says, "I'm thinking. I'm thinking. OK, I'll ask her. If she says it's cool with her, it's cool with me. I'm getting a fucking headache."

Garibaldi remarks to us, "Oh, Miss Shrimpling? Zack has an offer-"

"She will not accept, as she belongs to me!" Sebastian cuts in and announces abruptly.

Garibaldi laughs, "I wasn't asking you, bud. I was asking the girl, who is _not_ _owned_ by you, believe it or not."

I am silent, though. I like Zack, yes, and he is a cutie-pie.

But, I told Sebastian I will marry him. I have a commitment to him. After a few moments, I decide to say I'm staying. "Sorry, Zack."

He seems fine, "Aww, too bad for me, eh? Well, Miss, I admire you even more for being loyal to your man. I sincerely do. Not exactly thrilled that you'd choose Jack the Ripper over me, but hey. I guess he's got that bad boy thing going on. That's the breaks."

Sebastian manages to behave himself, letting me just cuddle up to him as we sit together. My back is hurting, though. This bench is not comfortable. He notices my shifting around, the little pained sounds I try but fail to keep quietly unnoticed. "Are you in pain, my sweet?" I try to dismiss it, "Only a little." He replies, "The night will only get longer. If they were willing to let you back out with Zack, I have an idea." I shake my head, "I'm not going anywhere with another man. Not even Mar- Martians. Uh, what was I saying? No man. No man but you." Jesus Christ on a cracker with mustard! I almost said MARCUS!

Sebastian doesn't seem to notice. He smiles, "Not a man- but Ivanova!"

I look at him like he's lost his mind. "But you don't like her! And now that you know she's into women, well, you seemed to not trust her anymore." He laughs, "I do trust her, though, for I thought of it and realized she feels motherly toward you. No way would she lust for you. You even look like you could be her little sister. And as to whether or not I like her, that matters little. I respect and trust her. That is enough, as long as you still like her." I nod, "And I do like her." He says, "Very well then," and calls for Garibaldi, whom he tells the idea to.

Garibaldi nods approval. A very pleasantly surprised approval. "Now that's an idea I can get behind fully. I'll see what she's doing, if she's available. Good thinking."

Garibaldi asks Susan, via comlink, if she can come down and get me.

"I'd normally have to release her to the custody of a parent or guardian." says Garibaldi, "Zack pointed out she has no family alive, and that would make her an emancipated minor, but do we want her to be released and left alone? No. But I do want to release her. All she did was drink while underage. And that's under in our time, not hers. No reason for her to sit in a cell all night, with or without him."

Ivanova says, "No question there."

Garibaldi asks, "Do you think you could watch her for the night? If it wouldn't be too much trouble, of course."

Ivanova replies, "I wouldn't consider it a trouble. She's barely more than a child, in a foreign place AND time. I can't even imagine what she's going through. I don't want her to think I'm babysitting her, but she does need looking after."

Captain Sheridan shows up before her. And when he sees me in the cell, he looks shocked and angry.

"What is she doing in the cell with him? Care to explain?"

Garibaldi tries to be nonchalant, "Oh, she hit Zack. After he refused her attempt at blackmail to release Sebastian early."

Sheridan is stunned, "She HIT Zack? Maybe she did, but Sebastian dragged her to a bar and got her drunk! Of course she's behaving badly. She's a child with probably no alcohol tolerance."

Then he asks me, "Miss, you don't normally drink alcohol, do you?"

I look as innocent as I can, "Oh! No! Not at all! I believe in the Temperance movement. I am so very sorry. People laugh about teetotalers, and I just shrug it off. Until last night."

Sheridan nods, "See? She's just a good little girl. I'm sure it didn't even hurt when she hit you. And you put her in a cell?"

Zack looks embarrassed, "Well, I realized I acted rashly because I was a little offended at the blackmail thing. I wanted to get her back out, but THEN it was Garibaldi here who insisted that once she was arrested, she had to be released only to a responsible adult."

Sebastian calls out, "Which means they are both _responsible _for the fact that my poor little Kaitlyn now has a sore back from this bench! She is a very delicate young lady!"

"Yes, she is, isn't she, Sebastian? Then it defies all logic that you took her to a bar!" It's Susan. She's here now too.

Looking ashamed, Sebastian quietly responds, "Yes, it does. I know."

She now tells Sheridan, "Captain, I do have some information for you. I realized we know her name- so I looked her up in the history files like I did Mr. Sebastian. Turns out she really was- or is- 17."

I say, "See? No way am I thirteen!"

Sheridan points out, "But you said you were 27. And **that **is still not true."

I shrug, "Well, it's still not thirteen."

He nods, "Yeah, whatever- but 17 is still too young for- well- for a lot of things, if you ask me."

He is looking pointedly at Sebastian, who says, "Excuse _me_, but I was told 27 by her, _and _by _Kosh_!"

Sheridan and Susan both shrug.

I say, "I honestly did think that at first. And if Kosh thinks it too, maybe there's a reason."

Sheridan says, "We will ask him that tomorrow. Maybe he just, I don't know, isn't that aware of what humans of different ages are like and got confused. I have no idea where his information came from. All I know is what Commander Ivanova just told me, and what I see with my own eyes. We'll figure it out."

And Sebastian adds, "I want to know too. I believed this story **myself**!"

"Again, **AS DID I**!" I scream, and everyone is silent.

After some awkward moments, Susan asks, "So, guys, I'm here, as you know. Are you letting her out, or what?"

Zack and Garibaldi nod, and simultaneously say, "Yes, yes, of course!"

Now I'm out of the cell.

I tell Sebastian I love him, and he says he loves me too.

Susan and I walk out of the security area, toward my room, to pick up a few things, before going to her quarters.

I apparently look pretty glum as we walk.

She tries to cheer me. "It's OK, Kaitlyn. They'll let him go tomorrow, I'm sure."

I make a wistful sigh, "Is it just some type of liability thing that they can't let someone that drunk go until he sobers up? Like he'd hurt someone or himself and they'd be held responsible?"

She nods, "It is. Pretty much. And pretty perceptive of you to think of it."

I sigh again, "Oh, I've known people to get arrested for public drunkenness before."

She nods, "Ah. Yes, many of us have. Sucks, doesn't it?"

"Definitely."

She changes the subject, "Well, it's not even 2200 hours yet, so we've got plenty of time to talk, if you're not too tired from your adventure. We can watch vids, have some popcorn. Like a slumber party. If they had those back then…"

I say, "We did. I only went to one once. I wasn't all that sociable. Shyness, it does that. But I did go to one. It was good. Friends watch TV, have snacks, tell stories, then go to sleep."

When we arrive and settle in, she asks if I like coffee, telling me how she has it specially grown in the garden. "I am not really supposed to though, so don't let it get out. Garibaldi and Zack know, but don't mention it to anyone else."

I let her know I'd rather have tea or soda, but thank her for the offer, and for trusting me.

She smiles sincerely, "I do trust you, and I want you to continue trusting me, talking to me. I apologize for treating you like you are ten instead of 17."

I smile back, "I know. And I want to trust you. So I am glad we are here. I just wish it were for a different reason. I wish I wouldn't have been so excited about the idea of a 'history-themed' bar. That was so stupid of me."

She reassures me, "Don't blame yourself, Kaitlyn. Sebastian is the one who should have behaved more responsibly. He never should have taken you to a bar at all. If he wanted to drink to pretend that whatever bothers him isn't real, he could've just gone to his room and drunk himself into a stupor from the mini-bar, making sure you were back safely in your own room first."

I nod emphatically, "Hey! Yes! You are so right on that, Susan! He's the one who acted stupid! Know why? Because he's a man. That's what they do, isn't it?"

She laughs, "I'm not always that gender's biggest fan, but I'd say it was more being human, than being a man. We're all flawed. He just decided to be flawed in a very irresponsible way. That's all I'm saying. But you aren't hurt, so, it worked out fine. Now, Kaitlyn, should we see what vids are on?"

I agree, "Sounds like a good idea. What about the popcorn?"

"Oh, yes. I'll get that started!"

"I don't suppose Babylon Park is on right now, is it?"

"No, that's on in the daytime. But we can easily watch an archived episode if you want. Do you really like it? I am surprised you get the jokes. Humor doesn't always translate from one century to another."

"I don't get all of them, but enough. It's really funny. Best thing I've seen in this century so far."

"Oh, it is darn good. Sometimes it's not as funny if the joke is about you. I'm not always in the mood to laugh at myself. That Captain 'Sherman' character, though? _Always_ hilarious."

She uses a highly advanced version of a hot air popper for the popcorn. It pops several cups' worth in less than a minute, without burning any of it. I am as amazed by this as anything. The butter is "simulated" but tastes "real" enough to me. I think it's a technologically advanced version of oleo… I mean margarine… from how she describes it. Oleoresin. Where in my brain did I dig that out of? It's something my Grandpa born in 1915 would say. Should I next ask if she has any fresh milk in the icebox?

The first Babylon Park episode I decide we should watch is only based on the title, which attracted me immediately. "Vorgon Conclusions: The Big Prophecy" How could I not be interested in that? Of course, neither I nor Sebastian are in it. But I had to make sure, you know?

The next Susan says is her favorite, "Sherman's Great Spoosade." Hmmm... I'm thinking that "Spoosade" should be of some significance to me, but I can't place it. It sounds like a combination of the words "spoo" and "crusade", but what it means I don't know. I'd swear it's connected to the Babylon Park that I thought I knew, but... drawing a blank. Doesn't matter. It's hilarious anyway.

I am tired now, and let her know. I'm almost apologetic, so she tells me not to feel obligated to stay up.

As I start to undress, Susan asks me a few questions about my clothes, mostly my corset. If it hurts, if it hinders my movement etc. "It doesn't hurt, but after several hours, yes it can feel restrictive. Some girls grew up wearing the things to bed, but I was always small-waisted anyway." This just comes right out of my mouth as if it's the real reason! As if the reason is NOT being from the late 20th century, when girls didn't do this.

I seem to be… turning Victorian! It's so weird!

She says, "I just wanted to make sure you're OK with it. That it's not something he insists on against your wishes. You know, like he'd say you are a 'loose' woman if you didn't wear one, or something like that."

"Oh, no. I don't even lace them up tightly. Aside from that, it's actually functional, to support the bust. And if I'm wearing something heavy like that wool suit, it helps me carry that weight around, too. We didn't have fancy synthetic fabrics that brought warmth without weight."

She nods, "OK. That makes sense. And you probably do have mostly heavy clothes with you if it was winter when you were taken."

I add, "Most of the clothes won't 'sit' right without a corset, anyway- even though I can still fit into some of them without it."

She nods again, "I have a couple formal dresses like that. And I guess what I wear under them is similar to a flexible version of a corset. So, I see, _maybe _it's not as cruel as I thought. That's good to know, actually. That at least for you it's not so bad. Presumably it was bad for girls not naturally shaped that way, but... oh, anyway. That's definitely the past!"

I take my petticoats off, and Susan now looks at my knees and calves. "Oh... oh no. In spite of everything, I was so sure he would be kind to you, with you being all ladylike and innocent... did Sebastian do that? Those bruises?"

I am confused a second, then I look and realize what she means. "Oh. Oh that. No. It wasn't him at all. That's all from when that groping man ran into me and knocked me over. In the bar."

She's a bit surprised, "No one told me you were hurt at the bar!"

I tell her, "Yes. It was before the BIG fight really started. The man who grabbed my butt panicked when the bouncer had to call security, 'cause there was a warrant out for him. So he ran, and he was really wasted, and he bumped into me and knocked me over. THEN Sebastian chased him and beat the hell out of him, and everything escalated from there. THAT is when they put me behind the bar so I wouldn't get hurt more."

She is indignant, "Security should have had a doctor check you out if you were knocked over by a grown man running! I am going to have a talk with them! I know half those brawlers ended up in Medlab! Yet you didn't get any medical attention, because you're shy and didn't put up a fuss!"

I shrug, "Maybe they just forgot. The brawl was extremely chaotic. And I got up and walked fine. I'm just bruised."

She looks closer at my knees, "They're a bit skinned too. That has to hurt."

I say, "It does, yes. But my skirts cushioned me a lot. I had worse when I was a little girl and fell down playing."

She shakes her head, upset, "Even so, it makes me mad that you were hurt, and those... stupid men... arrgh, _stupid _MEN! Well, I've got some ointment I can put on that. Hmmph. Men. MEN!"

Well, now that she's a little angrier men _are_ all bad! That's more like it.

She gets the ointment, and says, "You were sitting there, injured, not complaining. And men still try to say that we are weaker, even to this day!"

She begins to apply it. It is indeed soothing.

I say, "To be fair, I didn't feel it at first. I was quite drunk. The first thing I actually noticed hurting was my back, from sitting in the cell."

"Another place you never should have been," she says, as she continues to dab the ointment on, "see, Kaitlyn, you hurt Zack's big manly feelings. He felt entitled to flirt with you, simply because you are pretty. Your returning the flirting means nothing, because of two things: You were intoxicated and he knew this; and you are underage and he knew _this_, too. He is also an authority figure. Your hitting him did not cause him to put you in that cell. It was only an excuse."

I'm still doubtful. "You really think so? I don't think Zack is like that. I'm surprised he did it at all. He seems very mild-mannered."

She shakes her head, "He is usually a good guy, but on some level, Kaitlyn, they are ALL scum like that. You just found the trigger for him."

I say, "But... but I HIT him. Wouldn't you get mad if I hit you?"

She says, more quietly now, "Oh, you poor sweet girl. Yes, I would get mad, but I wouldn't have been flirting with you when you walked in with the man you are engaged to marry. THAT is a male thing, definitely. All of them, even in as 'enlightened' a time as this, feel entitled to some degree of female attention. We need all the laws we have to protect us from them."

I ask, "Do you still think I need protected from Sebastian?"

She considers what to say a moment, "I'd say you need to be careful, still. I would not be comfortable sending you off with him to somewhere you could be isolated from other people, before you get to know him better."

"So, you would be concerned for me, but you don't think he's a general danger to society?"

She thinks harder this time, "Well, I don't know. Apparently, he was a danger only to specific segments. Which made it suck to be in that segment of society... But he definitely had a specific purpose in his mind, and was not targeting anyone outside that group... so... that was awful for those people... those women... but if in his time with the Vorlons, he's worked out whatever his issues were with... prostitutes... well, maybe he's not dangerous any more. Would I still be thrilled, on behalf of the women who felt terrorized at the time, to have a chance to just totally kick his ass? Hell yes. But it wouldn't change anything."

Now I ask, "So, you don't hate him, then?"

She sighs, "Hate is a strong word. I certainly hate what he did, in 1888, with those murders. If I didn't KNOW he did that... I probably wouldn't think him capable of it, based on what I've seen. I'd figure he's some sort of trouble maker, but not a killer. Now, I didn't have an interrogation session with him, and I don't really know the extent of what happened in there. I know Lennier was very afraid for Delenn's safety, even her life. But... everything _after_ the interrogation thing... I honestly wouldn't pick this guy out as a murderer. It's something he somehow managed to be convinced was a good idea for a greater cause, not an intrinsic blood-lust, I guess is what I'm saying. And... wow... umm... so he's insane, not evil, but... oh, you are asking some difficult questions to answer. No. I don't hate him. I hate his past deeds. Is that what you want to know?"

I nod, "That makes sense to me. The murders obviously upset me, too. I can't get mad at him for interrogating someone it was his job to interrogate, but the murders, yes. And in spite of this, I find myself loving him so strongly, I just question my own sanity."

She looks at me a moment, and says, "Then what you need is to just do things completely normal for a young lady to do. So, do you think it would be OK if I took you shopping tomorrow? I won't have you change your whole wardrobe. But, if you get cold a lot on the station, you might want some lighter weight insulating clothes."

I laugh, "Oh, why not? I am getting a bit more used to the crowds here. And I do love to buy new clothes!"

Susan smiles, "Excellent! I might not seem the type to be all excited for a 'girls' day out' shopping, but every now and then I like it. And it will be just as interesting to see your reactions as to see Delenn's I think. You may be from Earth, but it's sure not the same Earth any more."

I must look a little sad, now, for she adds, "Oh, not that I need to remind you of that. I'm sorry."

I shrug, "It's not your fault. It's a natural thing to think of and say. I'm surprised everyone doesn't just _greet _me with it!"

Susan laughs more nervously, "Yes. It has to be so hard for you. I cannot imagine. And the other day, when I said I'd still be concerned if you were a 40-year old in the same situation, I meant that. I definitely think some shopping will do you good. Some new pretty hair accessories, or jewelry, maybe a few books or magazines, too. I'm sure you're into more than clothes and fashion. You read. You're smart."

I shout excitedly, "Yeah, girl power!" And we laugh.

I get ready to put on my nightgown, and think, Of course! The gown I was taken in would have a 1990's era label in it! How could I have been so foolish to overlook such an obvious way to prove when I really came from?

So I look, and...

Oh. There is no label. I swear it was there before I went to bed… in the past. It is not there now.

Did it fall out? Was it never there?

Either way, that idea is shot down!

So, I just take off the rest of my undergarments, and put the nightgown on. It's 100% cotton, so I can't even go, "Hey! Look! Synthetic fibers!"

Even if I could, I'd probably just find out they were invented earlier in this timeline. Even in my own timeline, machine sewing would prove nothing, either.

Everything I have would have belonged to an upper-middle class girl, not a poor one. A girl whose family could afford fancy goods from the city, even if she lived near farmland.

Susan says she'll sleep on the couch. I don't argue about it. Sebastian told me the reason I had to go with her was so I could be comfortable, after all. And I tell myself, these Earth Force folks are tough anyway.

I sleep fairly well, considering.

A few times I hear Sebastian's voice calling my name, and wake with a start. But he isn't there.

The last time, though, I hear him continue, after I am clearly awake.

* * Kaitlyn, my darling! You do hear me, don't you? * *

I look around, and whisper quietly, "Yes. But how...?"

* * It is too bad you are in Ivanova's quarters. What I want to do would wake her. * *

I whisper again, "Are you here in the room? In astral form or something?"

* * Yes. I could come in a more solid form, but I don't want to scare Ivanova to death. * *

"Why don't I see you? I know I can see astrals."

Oh, Kaitlyn, I have no doubt you can normally see astrals. You have that in common with my late Henrietta. As to why not now, I don't know. My projection may be weak or just 'off kilter' from my alcohol consumption.

"Oh. Makes sense. But if you don't want to wake Susan, why are you even here?"

* * I don't know. Just to see you. It was frustrating to be apart from you. But you are safe and need your sleep, so I will go now. I love you. * *

"Well, I love you too. And good night then."

* * Good night. * *

And, now, it is once more quiet inside my head.

And, it takes time for me to fall asleep again.

But I do.


	10. This is serious

********Sebastian ********

Mr. Allan and Mr. Garibaldi have gone home for the night.

Only one guard is now on duty in this area, working the front desk. I am in minimum security. This is just the "drunk tank", Mr Garibaldi kindly informed me earlier. Obviously those two don't find me especially threatening. And why should they? I didn't hurt anyone who wasn't just begging to be hurt, did I? Some importuning ass-grabber? He deserved everything he got. And as for officer Peters, he merely got a good scare. Which he also obviously needed! Anyone else I may have hit or kicked was probably also hitting or kicking me!

Garibaldi even said he understands me more than I'd think. The self-hate, the depression. He does, as it turns out. He is not arrogant, as I called him while fully drunk. I apologized, and he very much accepted. Mr. Allan became a bit jealous of that, I believe.

When I asked them if they were really sure about keeping the likes of me in minimum security, Mr. Allan was a bit... uncivil. "You know what's good for you, don't you, Mr. Sebastian? Well, now that you've sobered up a bit, I think you do. And I think you will act like it." Almost screamed it at me, he did. Mr. Garibaldi asked, "Zack what's gotten into you?" and Mr. Allan just brushed it off.

Right now, Sheridan is scolding me for my irresponsible conduct regarding Kaitlyn. I know it was foolish of me to take her to that bar. I'd never have done such a thing back on Earth. But I know why I did. I felt so angry and powerless, when we were denied entry to the little club in the restaurant. And I wanted a few drinks. Who wouldn't want to drink and take every substance possible while living the life I've had with the Vorlons? Of course, back on Earth, I'd never even have taken such a young girl out to dinner; would not have been courting her. I'd have waited a year or two at least. Well, you know, if I hadn't been married already...

I also felt betrayed at the mere possibility that Kaitlyn was younger than I thought. It's a good thing I'd not yet had it confirmed by history records! On a computer tablet, Garibaldi showed me the files Ivanova found. How could I have been so foolish? How or why would Kaitlyn lie to me?

But did she lie? Or is she truly, honestly confused on that too? She could be. Did Kosh lie? Or are they both mistaken?

Was it some other vorlon who is to blame? Were the memories they showed me even from Kaitlyn at all? I didn't see her face. It was a dark bedroom scene. I could barely see a young man removing his clothes and felt his arms around her, caressing her body, as he kissed her. Even his face was well-obscured by the darkness. Then it flashed ahead and I saw the scene afterward, when they simply cuddled in bed. I felt the emotional sense that sex had occurred, (which she seemed conflicted about) but did not see or feel the actual intercourse part of the memory. I had assumed this was out of concern for Kaitlyn's privacy, but perhaps it was meant to deceive me.

Rant, rant, rant, Sheridan. I am not listening to you anyway. I am thinking. I have important things to think about. Like... exactly how will my marriage to Kaitlyn take place? Is it possible for us to legally marry? We do not exist. Our identicards were forged only for use here on Babylon 5. Searching for either of us in Earth records only turns up historical results.

If we cannot marry legally here, we certainly cannot do so on any Earth colony, or Earth itself.

Where can we legally marry?

Barring that, who could perform an unofficial ceremony that will at least unite us in the eyes of God? It need not be a Christian ceremony, though I clearly would prefer that.

For Christ's sake, where can we even live? Nowhere connected with Earth, except here, on Babylon 5. I do not want to stay here forever! If I had to, just to be with Kaitlyn, I would, but...

* * *

I hear Delenn's voice out in the hallway

"I hear a man fitting Mr. Sebastian's description was brought in here a while ago. Is this true?"

Next the young male guard replies- "There is a man in here named Sebastian, yes. He was brought in with several others from a bar fight."

Delenn asks, "May I see him?"

The man replies, "Oh! Absolutely of course Ambassador! Captain Sheridan is, uh, talking to him right now though. He seems pretty angry at the guy."

I see Delenn approaching. Sheridan is busy enough ranting that he doesn't notice anyone coming behind him- until she speaks in a bold tone, interrupting him. "Hello, Mr. Sebastian."

Now Sheridan turns in surprise, "Delenn! What are you doing here?"

She holds her head high, "I had heard that Mr. Sebastian was brought in here, and I wanted to come by to be certain he has not been mistreated."

Sheridan huffs, "Why do you think we'd do that, and why do you care? You shouldn't have come here, Delenn! I don't want you anywhere near this man! He's dangerous!" Unbelievable arrogance. Scolding a member of the Gray Council!

But the way she glares at him now, oh! Maybe Captain Sheridan will get a spanking soon! I'd almost pay to see that.

After she collects herself a moment, her reply is bold, but soft, without the scolding tone he used, "Why should I not care, may I ask? Is he not a living human as you are? Why do you not want me to see him? Are the injuries I see all from the fight he was in, or have you added to them?"

Sheridan just growls, so I make a reply myself, "Oh, Ambassador Delenn! It is so good to see you. Let me assure you, my lady, that neither the Captain, nor the fine gentlemen of security have harmed me. I feel exactly as one would imagine, after having become extremely intoxicated and participating in a major brawl. Which is to say, not well, but as well as can be expected." I smile, and speak kindly. I no longer wish her to have any fear of me. It would serve no purpose at this point, and I do respect her greatly.

Delenn looks concerned, as she asks me, "Do you think you should perhaps be in Medlab?"

I shrug, "I will be fine. I prefer watching fights to being in them, but I have had my share. I do not need medical attention."

And she asks me if I am sure. I nod. She looks doubtful, pointing out that my left cheek is quite bruised, and she swears my color is a bit green, and even more pale than before.

Sheridan rolls his eyes, "Delenn, he just said he's fine. I think the man knows how he feels. You must be tired, it's late. You really should just go back to your quarters and go to bed."

She really gives him a look now. "Excuse me? You are telling me to 'go to bed' like a misbehaving child? Am I up past my bedtime?"

Sheridan literally smacks himself, "No, no. That's not... I'm sorry, Delenn. I'm just... sorry."

She points at him, and says, "You had best be sorry." She barely raises her voice, but she is no doubt angry.

He raises his hands in distress, "I am! I am! Very sorry!"

This is entertaining, I must say.

Next, Delenn speaks again, "Now, I do have another concern- one which _you _might even approve of, John. I wish to know where the girl you told me about is, how she is doing, and if she is safe, since her companion is locked up here."

I speak up quickly, "I suggested to Mr. Garibaldi that Commander Ivanova could watch Kaitlyn. And I do know, thanks to a connection I have with her, spiritually, that she is definitely safe in the Commander's quarters."

She smiles and nods. "Good. Now, do tell me- is it true as John says that this 'Kaitlyn' is still a child? I cannot imagine the Vorlons pairing you with a girl who is not physically mature enough for...um... marriage. How old is she?"

I say, "She is very close to adulthood. Obviously in chronological time we are both centuries old... but when she was taken she was only a few weeks from her 18th birthday. And in my time in my country she could marry at 16. The age of consent was raised from only 13 just three years prior. In her country, in many places, it was still that young."

She nods again, "As I thought. The Vorlons can be insensitive, and are not always mindful of the ways of us 'lower' beings- but they DO know when females of the various races are old enough for safe breeding."

With shock, Sheridan exclaims, "Breeding! You mean like ... horses?"

I laugh, "In MY case, very MUCH like a horse, my dear Captain!"

Delenn looks confused, Sheridan not at all pleased with the crude joke he walked me right into.

Delenn starts, "What does he mean-" and Sheridan cuts in abruptly, "I'll explain it later. It's... inappropriate. And probably not true. Ha."

I say now, "Oh, but it IS true, Captain. Ha ha to you. Well, now- I should not have told such a joke in front of a lady. Delenn, I apologize."

Sheridan looks stunned that I would apologize, and Delenn says, "I do not know what the joke is, but accept your apology for it."

I add, "This is also unlike me, being so crude in public, in front of a lady. Well, unlike me when sobering up, anyway. It is just that... everything is unlike everything I have ever experienced. Also, I have not had the slightest autonomy since being with the Vorlons, either, and I've nearly forgotten what responsibility is!"

Sheridan nods, "I realize things are strange for you, too, not just for her. But you need to know that anything confusing to you must seem ten or maybe a hundred times as odd to an innocent teenage girl."

I remind him, "I do try to keep that in mind, but don't forget none of this was my idea! I did not bring the girl here- the Vorlons did. And it was not until earlier tonight that I learned her true age. I was told by both Kosh and the girl herself that she was older."

Delenn understands, "Indeed- there is plenty enough to criticize you for. I will not blame you for something entirely outside your control." She looks at Sheridan pointedly.

Maybe she can convince him on this particular point, if I cannot.

He asks her, "Delenn, why are you being so... nice to him? Have you really forgiven him already?"

She nods solemnly, "Yes. I have. And so should you. The length of time the Vorlons used him had nothing to do with the severity of his crimes. And the way they used him was not of his choosing. It was expediency for their goals, not a judgment of his morals. And, I realized, I have at times behaved in a spoiled and entitled manner. I may have benefited from having someone not let me do this for once."

That last part irks him, "Delenn! You didn't need to be tortured! He enjoyed torturing us."

She looks annoyed, "In the moment, yes. I gave him words to think about. And from what you told me later, it is clear he gave it thought."

He laughs rudely, "He thought about that, yes. But he's sure stopped thinking. He isn't using any good judgment at all."

She maintains mild annoyance, "I realize he has made poor decisions. Again, I think he knows this, and wants to do better. You heard what he just said about how closely the Vorlons controlled him!"

He has had enough, "Fine, he can be forgiven, even if I don't want to do it. But I want him in a cell for a day or two, just to think about what an ass he made of himself, and how much danger he put that girl in! If he's forgotten what responsibility is, **he needs to learn again!**"

Much more quietly, she says, "Yes, I suppose it is fair."

Fair enough, I think. I know I behaved recklessly. "As long as Commander Ivanova will keep Kaitlyn safe in my absence, I accept your judgment, Captain."

"Good, Sebastian I am glad to know you are ready to behave like a man."

Delenn asks him quietly, "Do you think you can be without Commander Ivanova on duty for two days?"

Sheridan shrugs, "I'll just have to."

Then he asks once again, "Delenn, why do you care? Really, honestly. Tell me."

She sighs, "I do feel responsible for his being here. If Kosh had not had doubts about me, he would not have had to come."

Sheridan starts to say, "Oh, Delenn..." then stops and is silent. I hope he realizes just what a lucky man he is!

Whatever the reason for Delenn's effort, I appreciate it.

I cannot be certain it is fully altruistic, but I truly believe it is at least partially so.

I can rest easy now, as I watch them go.

* * *

*******Kaitlyn *******

I wake at just past 600 hours to the smell of Susan making breakfast.

It is early for me, to be sure, but probably what she is used to.

I walk into the kitchenette, and say, "That smells wonderful. Wow. Is it really only 6:15?"

Susan replies, "Oh. I don't suppose you get up this early. Didn't think of asking that. The habit is so ingrained. Most days that I am on duty, I wake even earlier. I don't even like it! But it 's what I do."

I tell her it'll be worth it if the food is as good as it smells.

She laughs gently, "I won't purport to be the greatest cook ever, but I know my way around. I'm making fresh, scrambled eggs. They are easy, and you get protein."

I'm surprised, "Fresh eggs? Do they have chickens out here in space? You are not supposed to grow coffee but they have chickens?"

She tells me, "No, they live on the planet below."

I'm even more surprised, "Epsilon 3? Really? It doesn't seem like a great place for them."

She says, "Most of the planet probably isn't. But there's this guy down there who is a caretaker of sorts for the Great Machine. Zathras. Um, I'll explain about that later, if you don't know. Anyway, he has them in his living area with him. He likes to talk to them. Sends a shuttle with eggs up here once a week."

I absorb this a moment. Zathras raises chickens. Because he likes to talk to them. Somehow it seems almost canon.

"If he talks to them I guess he must be kind to them. That's the thing I'd worry about most, raising animals in places like this. People being cruel."

She understands, "Oh, yes. Definitely. But he loves them. He only has ten of them, and most of the fresh eggs go to command staff. All the other egg products on station are freeze dried, powdered, or synthetic eggs."

I cringe, "Synthetic eggs? Ewwww! What are they made of?"

"You don't want to know."

"I will trust you on that one."

We laugh.

"Now, I know you weren't excited about coffee last night, but-"

"Oh, if I'm getting up this early, I'll take a small cup of it."

"With cream and sugar?"

"Definitely yes! As much of both as you can spare."

"Ah. so your preference is more like cream and sugar with a little coffee in it."

"Exactly."

And we laugh again.

She shows me a bit of how to use a modern stove. They don't have them in the hotel-room type quarters, so this is my first look.

We also eat fresh apples, which apparently are grown legitimately in the gardens. They are sweet and juicy. Mmmm.

Good bread for toast, too. Whole grains.

"Breakfast was great, Susan. You're amazing!"

"Oh, why thank you! That's so kind of you to say."

I can't help wondering whether Sebastian is awake, and what he will have for breakfast. I'm guessing it won't be this good. I wonder what Sheridan decided, as far as how long he should stay in there.

I concentrate and, I feel a vague sense that he is still asleep, but nothing else. I wish I felt this connection thing as strongly as he seems to- but at least I can feel something.

"Susan, if they don't let Sebastian out today, can I go visit him?"

"Of course. I am going to come along, though. The Captain will have my head on a platter if I let you out of my sight."

I laugh sarcastically, "I don't know why he's being that way. He sure isn't my father!"

"Well, maybe he just feels you need a stand-in for that role, since your actual father is long deceased. I will admit I kind of feel that way about your need for a mother. Or maybe more of a big sister. I guess I'm not THAT old."

I cautiously ask, "Are... are you... OK with my marrying Sebastian? I know the Captain is totally against it, but are you?"

She looks uncomfortable, but answers, "I, well, I can't say I'm 100% thrilled with it, but since I know I am not in fact your mother or sister, it's not my place to say you can't. And with the Vorlons involved, I don't see how I can even have a say in it. They're the Vorlons! But I do figure they know things I don't, so if they believe Sebastian is good for you, maybe there is some truth to it. I just hope their view of 'good for you' is compatible with your own."

Makes sense. "It seems like it must be what I'm supposed to do, though. Or at least one of the things I'm supposed to do. To be preserved alongside him, and brought here and revived when his 'mission' was accomplished, that sure seems like my destiny must be connected with him."

And she can see this is true, "It does. It certainly does. Why that would be your destiny is what puzzles me, I guess. You are such a sweet girl. And he... well, you know the story there. And yet, I've seen him behave very gently and protectively with you. There's something about him that tells me in spite of all he should represent to me, that I can trust him with you."

I say, "Well, if it weren't for the fact that, as he's told me, Inquisitors can't be read by telepaths, I'd say it's- oh- oops."

She nods, "My latent telepathy. That's what you were about to say, right?"

A bit nervously, I say, "Yes... and I shouldn't know about that... which is why I stopped myself, but, damn. I shouldn't have started."

She looks a little nervous too, "Is this something the Vorlons know and told you about, or something you can sense yourself?"

I tell her, "I am honestly not completely sure how I know. I know a lot of things I shouldn't."

She says, "Well, I can tell you that telepaths still sense things even when an actual 'reading' is not possible. Of course, it can be vague, and thus is not always fully accurate. There will be some level of accuracy, though."

I ask, "Does that mean if you get the feeling to trust Sebastian, you think others should, too?"

She equivocates, "To _some _extent. It's more trusting him _with you_, than trusting him overall."

Now I'm more than a little curious, "Why didn't you trust him at first, though? You didn't seem to trust him within twenty feet of me!"

With a sigh, she says, "I did trust him. Or, I did have the feeling- but based on his past, I went against my own instincts."

I nod, "Going against yourself is usually a bad idea even for those with no telepathy at all."

Now she asks, "Do you think you might be a telepath, Kaitlyn? Like, at a low-level without much control? That might be how you just 'know' things, but aren't aware of how."

I explain, "Sebastian told me there's a connection directly between he and I- which the Vorlons told him about. But it's not fully telepathic. At first I didn't believe him, because I couldn't feel it, but I do now, and it gets stronger each day. I do think he could be at least a latent telepath himself, though. It's a talent that would have helped him get away with his crimes. And also what could have initially drawn the Vorlons to him."

She asks, "What about you, though? Have you always just known things, or did it start happening on the station?"

I think, "Well, before, it wasn't as often, but it was there. It was really not often, though. Hardly at all."

She asks, "Do you think it's something the Vorlons enhanced?"

I say, "I don't know. What I do know is that I am also unreadable, or I was told so. I guess I wouldn't have to worry about Psi-Cops learning secrets from me, then. That's good, right?"

Susan exhales, "Good for anyone you know secrets about- but not good for you, IF one would ever get hold of you. What you are talking about isn't just the ability to block a scan. You'd probably show as having no thoughts at all. And for any sentient, that would clearly mean something very strange was going on. Not to scare you, but they'd probably want to know exactly WHY they couldn't read you. You couldn't just smile and tell them it's because the Vorlons wanted you to marry an Inquisitor. They wouldn't know what that meant. We sure didn't."

I nervously say, "Oh. That does sound bad."

"Yes, very bad. Like... painful experiments bad. It's funny," she says, "I once said Psi-Corps had all the moral fiber of Jack the Ripper- I never thought I'd be wanting to apologize to the Ripper himself for saying that!"

* * *

Next, Susan and I are on our way...

We proceed down the hall, and head to a lift.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

She seems puzzled that I'd ask, but answers, "This lift goes to the tram. It's the fastest way to the Zocalo from here."

I inform her, "Oh, I haven't gone on the tram. Sebastian knows how shy I am, so he helps me avoid crowds in tight spaces. I also kind of don't like how it's up in the air. That stuff scares me. We've gone place to place through the maintenance corridors."

She's surprised, "Really? And you haven't been caught?"

"Is it wrong to go that way?"

She laughs a little, "Wrong? Well, you're not authorized, that's all. I of course won't say anything. Just be careful when you guys do that."

"Oh, we are. Sebastian... is Sebastian. He, uh, knows what he's doing in getting around you know? Natural sense of direction. Somehow knows where he is, even if he's never been there."

"That's... interesting. That's... how he always got away, isn't it?"

"Oh. I suppose so."

"Sorry. I... have trouble forgetting."

After a few awkward moments, I ask, "So, do we have to take the tram?"

She tells me, gently but firmly, "You should experience these more modern things. It is how we live now."

I sigh. "I suppose so. You'll be with me. I guess it's OK."

She smiles, "Of course it's OK! It's more than OK! It'll be great, an adventure!"

I try to sound confident, "Adventure- Hmm. Well, let's go!"

* * *

**********Sebastian **********

The guard wakes us prisoners up, yelling "Breakfast!" Does he really have to shout? My head hurts! DAMN, does it HURT!

A grouchy-looking, but still slightly attractive older woman, perhaps 55 to 60, slips trays of food through slots at the bottom of holding cell doors. A man I'd take to be about 70 years old flirts with her, "Hey there, bet you're hotter than this food, eh?" She manages to remain silent, but the intensified death glare speaks for itself!

"Fred, you know better than that!" shouts another man from a cell across the room.

I simply nod, smile pleasantly, and say "Thank you." She still doesn't say a word, but I like to think I help by being polite.

I begin to eat the... well, I don't know what it is... but it is better than what the Vorlons usually serve. That doesn't mean it's good, but I was starting to get spoiled on the delicious variety of food over the past few days!

Oh no. Oh dear. Something is wrong... my head... much worse, and... I'm shaking. My hands, unsteady... drop the tray... and now I- no- no- I fall to the floor, still shaking.

I hear a man say, "Don't eat the food! Look at him over there! It's poisoned!"

And the guard calling, "Hello! Medical emergency in Minimum Security holding area! The prisoner in cell 12 is having seizures! Hurry!"

Just before I pass out...

* * *

This must be Medlab. I had some type of seizure before I passed out. Probably drug withdrawal. I have used more than ever before since I have been on this station.

Oh, look at this fancy tubing. Fluids. Into my arm. I feel very calm. It must be more than just saline. A detoxifying substance? That also relaxes? It feels good. I like it. Happy.

I see Doctor Franklin, and try to greet him. I cannot get any words out, but apparently do make a sound. He turns to me.

"Good to see you awake. You were in very severe withdrawal."

I try to tell him which drugs I took. I know enough to realize the information is pertinent. But again the words do not form. It is slightly disconcerting, for a moment, then I am calm again.

"You need to be careful mixing such high doses of different drugs. I don't know how anyone survived your era! Cocaine, chloral hydrate, marijuana, and the alcohol, too? I don't know how you got all that onto the station, but customs isn't my department. Wow. I suppose I should be relieved there was at least no opium or absinthe."

Oh. I gather I do not need to tell him what I used. Modern testing, of course.

"You just relax and let the detox do its work. In about six hours, you'll be on your feet again. Good as new. Well, maybe not as new, but- much better."

He smiles. He knows I am from the past. Does he also know what I did then? If so, he does not let it stop him from treating me. And with much kindness. What a very kind and sweet doctor. I like him so much! Oh, do I feel lovely.

* * *

A few minutes later, I am unconscious again.

I hear Kosh. In my head. He can very easily do that when I am out like this.

All Vorlons can.

When they want to.

"Sebastian. Hear me, listen."

"I hear you. I listen."

"You are as much here for the girl as she is here for you."

That makes sense, but I ask, "And how should I be here for her?"

"Protect her. Instruct and guide her. Love her. Cherish her. And you will make love to and impregnate her."

That got my attention."Impregnate?"

"Yes."

"I do wonder what I have worth passing down the generations."

Kosh gives a very Vorlon answer, "The sound of rivers changing."

"Oh, I see. It would have to be something like that, rather than, say, my lovely grey eyes, wouldn't it?"

I swear Kosh laughs. "This is also a possibility."

I ask, "As for Kaitlyn, aside from her obvious beauty and intelligence, why am I drawn to her so strongly?"

"You are connected."

"I know, but WHY?"

"Your souls. You have been together many times before."

I do think this must be true, but... "Now, I would understand that if she lived later, and were a reincarnation of Henrietta- but clearly she lived at the same time! They are two different people! How could I love two women both so much? I thought true love was... more sacred than that."

Kosh philosophizes, "Henrietta has also been with you before. Both women have. I cannot explain love. Why not attempt to contain the ocean in a teacup?"

I think I get it now. "Yes, you are right. Love is just love. Love just is."

Kosh seems pleased. "Exactly. Love is very much like a Vorlon."

I see Kaitlyn reaching through a fog, trying to touch me.

"My love! My husband! Please!"

* * *

And now I am coming to again. This time I was out for what I believe is a short time, maybe half an hour? I cannot be sure.

Is that? Yes! Kaitlyn is at my bedside.

And Susan Ivanova is sitting just behind her.

Oh dear. Poor Kaitlyn is crying. She is holding my hand.

"Sebastian! Oh thank the gods!" She clearly sees that I am awake now.

"Kaitlyn." I manage to whisper her name.

Doctor Franklin tells her, "He's awake now- that's good. And I heard him say your name. He really will be fine, like I said."

"In only a few hours? Truly?" she asks.

He affirms this, "Yes. As much as I can guarantee anything, I will guarantee that. Modern medicine will surprise you, I am sure."

I softly say, "My sweet one. Love you." I want to say more, but for now this is my best effort. At least I can talk now!

Kaitlyn says excitedly, still worriedly, "Oh, I love you so, so, very much Sebastian! When I heard what happened! Oh! But Susan was wonderful, she brought me right here. The alert sounded on her comlink, because it was a security thing, or whatever. But anyway, she got me here quick, so I'm here. And I am so hapy to see you awake and talking! I was so scared! So scared! Oh Sebastian! I really love you. I do. I DO!"

I am so pleased to hear how much she loves me, but it saddens me to realize how much she is worrying over me. Poor little angel. Sweet princess. I know, right here and right now, that I must never again be so stupid as I have been lately.


	11. Medlab and more

Just a note here:

In real life, at the age of 27 my upper wisdom teeth had in fact not grown in yet. And I grew almost a full inch in height in my early 30s, so clearly there would still have been evidence of growth in my bones. So, a _quick _check of basic age indicators might indeed have made me seem younger even to trained folks.

* * *

OK, now fiction again.

* * *

******Kaitlyn*******

Doctor Franklin explains to me how a device I can only describe as futuristic works to remove toxins. "It identifies the chemical composition, and extracts it, without harming anything that is supposed to be there. It removes it pretty fast. That's why through this IV, he's getting an anti-convulsant, and some sedatives. You need those other drugs, or he'd go into even worse convulsions than what he came in with, and possibly die."

Sebastian says, "Do not want to die."

The Doctor tells him, "And since you're here, being treated, not only will you live, you won't even feel like you were ever hooked on anything in the first place. Just promise you won't ever try any of the modern drugs. The reason we can detox you so easily and quickly is that you used drugs that have been fully understood for centuries now. Modern stimms and the like, those require a much harder process, more like in the past."

Sebastian quietly promises he won't try anything like that.

Doctor Franklin then adds, "And, oh yeah! Don't go back on the old stuff either! Almost forgot that part."

Sebastian smiles and nods.

I sit by Sebastian, holding his hand for a while.

He falls asleep again, and since my chair is fairly comfortable, I drift off too.

I wake to hear Sebastian laugh. "Have _you _been sedated now, dear?"

"Hmm? Oh, I fell asleep, didn't I?"

"You go have fun. I'll stay here. Nowhere else for me to go." Sebastian says.

I ask if he's sure, and he says he is already feeling better. He does seem to be speaking well now.

He points out, "Commander Ivanova does not look pleased to still be here." Oh, my. I have concentrated so much on Sebastian, I almost forgot she is here too!

Susan tells him, "Oh, no. It's fine. I am supposed to stay with Kaitlyn." But of course I can tell she'd _much _rather be somewhere else. It is only on my behalf that she feels concern for him.

Before we get much chance to decide, I turn around and see Garibaldi walking toward us, with Dr. Franklin. They clearly had discussed something quickly. They look very serious. Though these two often look serious.

Garibaldi quietly asks, "Hey, uh, Mr. Sebastian? Is there anything you know of in your room that would be a... sensitive security issue for the Vorlons, if my guys were to search the place and possibly confiscate a few things?"

Sebastian even more quietly answers, "Well, one thing I can think of... would actually be a danger _to the officers _if they tried to confiscate it!"

Garibaldi nods, "OK. Is it something Miss Shrimpling or Ivanova can handle safely?"

I say, "If it's what I think he means, yes, I can. But I'm probably the only one besides him or a Vorlon."

Sebastian says, "They are going to confiscate my drugs, then? Is that what this is about?"

Garibaldi nods. "And considering who you work for, I wanted to give you a heads-up. I don't want to inadvertently start any interplanetary incidents. Unfortunately, I _have _to order the room searched. We are now conducting an investigation of the Good Ol' Days bar, because this is far from the first complaint that they've let a minor drink. And the quarters of everyone arrested that night will be searched. So, Commander, you and the girl, hurry over that way. I'll delay the order an hour longer. And, coincidentally, the security camera feed in that area malfunctioned just before I came here. Can't imagine why, but it'll take a good while to get back on line, I think. Now, I am sure you know to leave the drugs, of course. Aside from it being the right thing to do, it'll look even more suspicious if he doesn't have at least a small stash. But anything that might be a Vorlon secret, or anything that could be misconstrued as a weapon, I'd suggest you remove ASAP. Get it to Ivanova's place."

Garibaldi says not to worry about my room, because my brief arrest was not official and had nothing to do with anything. He assures me, "That was the least official arrest I've ever seen."

And even though I _am_ the minor in question, I myself am not under investigation. "Like I said last night, our first offense policy is a warning, and you got that. I'll make sure I'm there when they search his place, so nothing gets damaged or stolen. Just get all the Vorlon stuff gathered up and out of there."

Sebastian tells me what I need to remove- not much it turns out. Dr. Franklin hands Sebastian his coat so he can get the identicard out of his pocket, so we can get in his room.

I give Sebastian a brief, quite chaste kiss, and head off with Susan.

* * *

Garibaldi also leaves medlab, close behind us.

I wonder, "Mr. Garibaldi? How do you feel about Sebastian?"

He seems to find it funny that I ask. "In what way, kid? Obviously not romantically- since that's your department."

I laugh lightly, "Right, I don't mean that. I meant... because you do know what he did, and the century when he did it."

More seriously, he says, "Yes, I do know. You two talked about it last night when we brought you in. Remember? And I think it's something the Vorlons dealt with their own way. Unless he kills someone here and now, no point in my getting involved when there's so much else on this station needing my attention."

I ask, "So, the fact that he committed the crimes in itself doesn't make you want to take revenge?"

He lifts an eyebrow, "Revenge? It's not mine to take in this case. And again, there's plenty for me to do here without that. Honestly, I'll tell you another thing- I've killed in my job. Clearly not in the way he did, but I have in fact killed more people than he has. He talked more about this stuff after you left, so I did think about it more than you know. The picture I get is- back then, he was so messed up between stress, drugs, and his inherent mental problems, he really thought what he did was HIS job, his calling, from God. And thanks to the Vorlons he knows now that God wanted no such thing from him. He said some of the Vorlons tried to stop his belief in God entirely, while others simply let him know God is different than the Christian concept. At that point the conversation wandered a bit much for me, so I don't recall anything else."

I am surprised, "But you sure recall a lot! He really told you all that?"

He nods, "Yes he did. And I'm sure he's still nuts, but at least he isn't batshit enough to think God talks to him anymore."

And I am surprised again, "Bat-what?"

"Oh. Sorry. I do have a colorful vocabulary."

"It's fine. Honest. Words are words. I just never heard that one before."

Susan asks, "So, how many people were listening to this conversation? I mean, if you're worried the Vorlons don't want all their business getting out, how would you explain to folks that Jack the Ripper was in their presence?"

Garibaldi replies, "Oh! No worry there. We went into one of the private interrogation rooms. He wanted to. He acted like he was the one in charge, y'know? Soon as he started talking to me, he was all, 'Oh, let's go somewhere that I can tell you about it,' like that was his decision to make, not mine. Of course, I wanted to know, but that's not the point. He still has some major arrogance going, that's for sure."

I chuckle knowingly, "Yes. Yes he does. And it's not _always _charming, either."

Susan laughs, "Is it _ever _charming?"

I shrug, "It can be. Believe it or not. It just... suits him, I guess."

Garibaldi laughs, "It kind of does. I know what you mean. Like, if he wasn't at least a bit of a **dick**, he wouldn't be **him**. Yeah."

I nod, "Exactly."

Then I ask about the bar, "Have things been, um, explained to the people who were there? I do recall Sebastian bragging quite openly. And that jukebox going OFF! That was creepy."

He says, "We've circulated a rumor that hallucinogens found their way into many of the drinks served last night. That should take care of most of it. Now, how the jukebox did what it did, your guess is good as mine. Maybe you two carry some weird residual Vorlon energy? How it would do what it did I can't even speculate on, but it's all we've got that makes even slight sense."

I opine this Vorlon energy theory is possible. It makes as much sense as the thing happening in the first place.

Now Garibaldi says, "Well, ladies, time to let you do what you need to do. And I need to do what I need to do. Have a nice day!"

He goes a different direction down a different hallway now.

And Susan and I go to Red 5, room 135.

* * *

Ah. Still where I last saw it.

Holding up the stick, I announce, "THIS is what you can't touch."

Susan looks amused, "A walking stick? Seriously?"

She absentmindedly brushes a fingertip against it, and yells, "OUCH! IT BURNS! OH MY GOD!"

She looks at her hand in alarm, and says, "It felt like it burned me. It didn't, but, wow. It sure felt like it! And, you're standing there holding it, and it does nothing, huh? Amazing."

I nod, "Oh, that's one word for it. You can ask a couple folks you know about what all it does!"

She says, "I know I don't want to find out firsthand! Wow!"

Then I look for his black bag- aside from drugs, there are apparently some very secret notes in it, and a few sentimental things. The knife is already in custody, but he has a few other items of interest. But surely the whole bag would end up taken.

"This it?" Susan finds it.

"Yes. That's it. How should we handle this? Take the drugs out of the bag and leave them here? Stick them in a drawer, maybe?"

She agrees, "That'll work. Let's check the pockets of his clothes. They'll look there. And if anything illegal's in 'em, they'll get bagged too."

The clothes come up clean. So he won't lose his wardrobe! Not that he has much. Just two suits, an overcoat, three shirts, underwear, socks, minimal accessories, a nightshirt, and slippers.

(Slippers, ah yes... Lucky I was able to buy a pair before he fell ill. Of course, mine are from the children's department.)

And I guess the jelly did come out of that one shirt after all, as none of these are stained.

Now, mind you, I take the sheer volume of goods I have to be evidence of Vorlons trying too hard to show how extremely Victorian I am. Sebastian doesn't, of course.

He says I am a spoiled middle class girl, all the more so as an only child. And as such, they wanted to leave me with an approximation of the life I was accustomed to, because of my innocence. The difference between us, according to him, is that he is being punished and I am not.

I know the Vorlons don't give two shits about innocence, but he could have a point about his being allowed to keep so few items being part of his punishment.

Sebastian has very little in his room. A Bible. A few other books. Note paper and pencils. Some grooming supplies. Aside from the snack food he's bought, that is it. Everything he owns now.

I have way, way more stuff! And yet they'd overlooked my slippers. He has little, but he got slippers. So funny, that.

Eh, maybe not that funny to anyone but me.

Susan and I take the stick and the bag to her quarters for temporary safe-keeping.

"What should we do now?" I ask.

"Whatever you'd like to do."

"I don't consider that a very helpful suggestion."

She shrugs,"Maybe you should work on your decisiveness."

I roll my eyes and say, "_Maybe _I should? Really decisive yourself. Sorry. Well. It's just that... I know you definitely don't want to sit there and watch Sebastian detoxing in Medlab. And I totally get how that wouldn't appeal to you. You don't even like him. If it weren't for my loving him, you might not care if he lived or died."

She denies this last part, "That's not true. It's not even **him per se **that I don't like - he's much nicer than I thought the Ripper would be. **I don't like**... well... that he is the Ripper, and **come on**! Who _would _like that? You... you don't _like _that he's a **murderer**, do you?"

So now I'm quiet.

I look uncomfortable, I know. Not that I actually do like this fact, but... the notorious aspect of it is a bit of a thrill.

You can be excited by things you don't like, right?

Not that I really have ever gone for "bad boys"... well, maybe a little... but only very little.

She looks at me seriously now, "Please say something. I am not accusing you of being a bad person. Honest. I understand how danger can excite people. Some skydive, some gamble, some marry serial killers. Hopefully reformed ones, like I really hope Sebastian is. But, yes, I know these are all things that happen. And you talked at first about being scared but excited by him."

"And I still feel that way. A little less scared, but no less excited. None of this is going to mean you really want to sit there in Medlab, though, is it?"

"You're right that I don't want to do that." she admits.

"Then we can shop some more, I guess. I hate to admit I got bored sitting there, when I say I love him, but I did. So we will shop. I need some more things to do my hair with. And, honestly, I'd like to have more than one nightgown. Also, I want to buy a plush toy animal to cuddle because I miss my cats."

"Oh, cats? How many did you have?" She seems genuinely interested.

I tell her, "Three when I fell asleep and was taken. Sometimes I am afraid I miss them more than my human family. Then I feel like I am a bad person. Or, more like other humans would think this. But cats always understand me."

"I'm sure your family would realize this is a very odd situation for you, and not judge you that way."

"I hope. And I suppose most of them would." then I realize, "Hey, know what else I need? A sketchbook! Do people still do art that way? Or do I have to learn to do it on a computer?"

She takes a moment to adjust to my abrupt change of topic. "I'm... not an artist, so, let's just go check the stores and find out..."

And we do.

* * *

Shopping in the future is interesting.

But tiring as ever.

The Centauri make some nice looking jewelry, I must say. And even though that single braid is the only hair on a Centauri woman's head, they do make lovely accessories for it.

Minbari are obviously no help at all in that department. Nor are Narns. Or Drazi. Or... It's amazing how many hairless races exist.

The Narns make excellent sketchbooks, it turns out. Expensive, but fantastic quality. Also quality writing, drawing and painting tools. The Narns value art highly. As do Minbari, but they mostly use much more high tech materials. It strikes me a bit sterile, but they are used to this aesthetic for centuries now. Narn art is still immediate and expressive. I'm very pleased with that.

The Earth based shops have little serious art material. I hope that only reflects the importance Earth Force places on it, not Earth in general. I find mostly doodle pads and crayons, as though art is only for children. I buy some of these too, for I am not the snooty "I only value 'high art'" type. I like to play around. But in these same places I did find a few adorable plush kitties. Even a Hello Kitty! Hello Kitty is still around!

Children do live on this station, though most only temporarily. No matter how short a child's stay, they have to have kid things, though, or they will make their parents' lives intolerable during that time!

Susan suggests if I want a modest nightgown, or other modest clothing, that will fit me, but not feature cartoon characters, a Minbari boutique will in this case be useful. Most of the Religious Caste are small, and of course dress modestly.

I ask if Delenn is as small as I am. "Almost. She's maybe a couple inches taller. Your frame is smaller, but I think you have a bigger, um... Well, I shouldn't compare too closely, really."

"Bigger butt? I very well might. It's fine. Sebastian likes big butts." I think I might be blushing.

"Oh. He's mentioned that, then?" She laughs.

"More than mentioned it... um. But maybe that's something I shouldn't discuss." I'm getting uncomfortable, of course.

And she looks a little uneasy, as she asks, "Have you, uh, well, you know, um, had sex with him?"

OOookay, I'm now way more uncomfortable. "No. the, um, butt thing is just something he has, uh, let me know."

"Oh. I... see. But, is he still being a gentleman, or has he tried to... get you to... do things with him?"

Does she have to ask that? "Well... sometimes I think he considers it as though we already are married- because we are meant to be. So he feels it is permitted to do certain 'things'. And I think as more time passes he will expand that list however it suits his mood. Please, I know you ask because you care, but let's not talk about this type of thing out in the open. Maybe later in private."

She nods, knowing I've already said more than I wanted to. "I understand. Point taken. But again, always remember-"

"If I need to talk, call you. Yes." I have to be blushing very red by now.

"Yes. Exactly. ANY time, too. No matter how late or early. Even if I'm on duty. I- I really am starting to feel like you're a baby sister I need to look out for!"

"That's the most wonderful thing to say. Thank you."

"You're more than welcome."

OK, here we are.

I can't read the name of the boutique, since it is in Minbari. But, it is a good one, as Delenn has apparently told Susan.

"She said I should buy a couple Minbari outfits here and see how I like them, then I looked at the prices. Whoa. But I am given to understand this won't be an issue for you."

I laugh, "Only thanks to the Vorlon Empire, of course!"

The variety in Minbari clothing seems not as much in the cut or style, but the fabrics. Most fabrics are luxurious in both appearance and feel. The textures and decorative patterns are more subtle than Centauri fabrics, for example.

The salesgirl begins to help locate suitable nightgowns, and maybe a robe or two. Then I begin to feel faint.

"You not feel well, young Human?"

"No, I do not-"

And I pass out. I hate that...

* * *

I come to.

Well, now it seems I am once again in Medlab, next to Sebastian. But as a patient in the next bed over, instead of in a chair, visiting.

"What happened?" I ask.

Dr. Franklin comes over, and tells me I am, among other things, very anemic. "And did you know you have asthma?"

"No I didn't."

"Well, it's mild, but, combined with having too few red blood cells, which _carry_ oxygen, that is what made you pass out. See, the oxygen levels on station do fluctuate a percentage point or two. It's no problem for most humans, and any aliens who would have difficulty usually know and take precautions before they get here. But from time to time we get someone unaware of their asthma, and they pass out. It has happened with a few Minbari, and Centauri, too, since they are both similar to us. But now you have a nice inhaler to keep handy. When you feel faint, take a puff. Put this end in your mouth, press down on this part..."

I give it a try. "Very good. You should remain conscious that way. And I'm giving you an iron supplement, too, for your anemia."

Sebastian tries to get out of his bed and come to me, but that detox device is attached in enough spots that he can't get all the way up.

"Whoa! Whoa, there!" Dr. Franklin notices and calls out.

A nurse runs over and asks Sebastian what he wants.

"My fiancee." Sebastian says, pointing to me.

Franklin tells him, "Very soon. You've got about an hour yet on that machine. She just needed a little oxygen. And some rest. You'll both be good to go about the same time."

* * *

*****Sebastian*****

As soon as Sheridan hears about Kaitlyn's illness, he comes to Medlab.

At first he is a bit angry. "OK- I understand what happened to him- he was taking drugs to deal with the Vorlons to begin with, and took more with the confusion of being basically let loose here with Kaitlyn, and then he went into withdrawal while locked up. But her? How did she get sick now, too? And with Ivanova watching her?"

Dr. Franklin calms him quickly, "First, it's nothing the Commander could have known. This girl has a mild case of asthma, but was unaware of it. You know some people do first learn they have it in a space environment. Our air can never be quite the same as on Earth. I also think being anemic complicated it. It's not anyone's fault. She was sitting here visitng Sebastian for a long time, and I myself attributed anything that seemed 'off' to her worry for _him_. I didn't think she was actually ill. How could I have expected anyone else to?"

Kaitlyn affirms, "It's true it's no one's fault I fell ill. Just _get over it_!"

Sheridan looks a little surprised at that last part. But he shouldn't be. If she is in a mood to speak her mind, it does not matter what your rank is.

I still have work to do getting this girl to properly respect me, but I do love hearing her sass another man like that. Especially an annoying one like him!

He says nothing in response to her, though, but asks Franklin, "What is your medical opinion on her maturity level? Is she ready for a relationship with an adult man?"

The doctor shrugs, "She is believed to be seventeen, and the evidence suggests this is correct. The buds of her wisdom teeth look like they should grow in soon. Her bones indicate she should gain about an inch more in height, but she is very fully grown. Everything seems right for a female in her late teens, which medically speaking, is essentially an adult."

Sheridan sighs, "That's not-"

Franklin says, "The answer to your question? No, it isn't. I know you meant psychologically. But how do we know if anyone is _ever_ ready for relationships? I'm not a psychologist. I'm primarily a xenobiologist. I know the basics of psychology that general practitioners do, so they can refer patients to specialists if needed. OK, maybe I know a little more than that- but still, a true psychologist I'm not."

Sheridan says, "And I know enough psychology to be aware you are hedging around instead of stating any real answer about her emotional maturity. So, I'm guessing you think she's somewhere in a borderline area."

Dr. Franklin admits, "Correct. But I can't be sure of the cause. It could be mostly due to finding herself in such a strange situation."

With a slight laugh, Sheridan says, "That doesn't make it a good thing."

And Franklin says, "No, but it might be something she'll cope with better over time. I don't think she's completely helpless."

Now Dr. Franklin asks, "So. Where is Sebastian supposed to go when I release him medically? I need to fill out the paperwork."

Sheridan replies, "He has time to serve yet. Back to the cell. What else?"

And Kaitlyn gets angry! She shouts, "NO! Let him go! Like I said, get OVER it!"

Sheridan sternly replies, "Young lady! You are not the one who-"

He stops as he hears: "She should be more respectful, but you should Listen to her," and we all turn to see Kosh.

Sheridan is obviously surprised. "Kosh! But-"

"Listen to her. Release Sebastian."

Sheridan says, "Give me reasons."

Kosh responds, "You already have reasons."

Then with a huff, Kaitlyn adds, "Look, Captain Sheridan, I know _exactly _why you don't like Sebastian. I can somewhat sympathize. But not really. **Because I love him**. I need him. And you can't change that. He understands his latest mistake. And you will punish both of us if you don't release him. I just need him."

I try to help her assure the Captain, "I most certainly have learned. I have behaved in the most unseemly ways, that I would not approve of in others. I've made excuses, as obviously my life since 1888 has been highly unusual, but it is time to stop that. Time to just face that what I did in that year contributed vastly to everything bad that has happened to me since."

Kaitlyn looks around the room a moment, then at Ivanova, "And I know the Commander is a strong woman, but right now I would prefer to have a man in charge of protecting me. And Sebastian is the only man I will accept."

Ivanova is a bit taken aback. But I must say I am pleased to hear these words from my sweet Kaitlyn.

Kaitlyn sees the look she is getting, and continues, "Well, you understand, I am not from this time. We saw things differently. I should certainly be under the guidance and protection of a man I have agreed to marry, even if he is flawed. That is why I truly, truly need him. Please, Captain, let Sebastian be with me now. Now. Not tomorrow."

Dr. Franklin opines "The best thing for her psychological health would be friendship with another young woman from her own time, but we just don't have a frozen supply of people from the Victorian era. Here and now, to my knowledge, **these two are it**. And they _are _engaged, after all. As long as he does no harm here-" Sheridan sniff-laughs derisively at that. "Ok, as long as he does no _further _harm, he probably _is _the best choice. Unless the fine folks of the Vorlon Empire have someone else on this station we don't know about."

Kosh replies, "We have chosen this man for her. Others from many times, from many worlds, exist on our world, each preserved for specific reasons. As for these two, she is for him, and he is for her. We will not tolerate interference with the pairing."

Franklin shrugs, "And that is one of the clearest answers _ever_ from a Vorlon."

Sheridan nods, "Yes, Kosh. It is clear you mean them to be together. Fine. But couldn't they have gotten together somewhere else? Why are you guys letting him just run loose on my station?"

Kosh says, "We were curious. We now know more, but not enough yet."

And then Kosh informs us all, "Upon release they will be transferred to more secure lodging in an Ambassadorial quarters."

Sheridan asks "How did you arrange that?"

Kosh simply states, "Easily."

Sheridan laughs exasperatedly, "Uh, but I'm the Captain, and they are not Ambassadors!"

Kosh replies, "Yes they are. Ambassadors of time." then he commands, "Do not interfere further. If he disrupts, do not arrest him. Contact me. I will resolve it."

Kosh states, before he leaves for a bit, "I will return for Sebastian and Miss Shrimpling in one half hour."


End file.
